Revolutionary Tactics
by Project X
Summary: March 23, 1775 is the day most Americans remember as Mister Patrick Henry's speech. "Give me Liberty or Give me Death!" However what most Americans don't know is that very day, in the shadows of Richmond's streets, there was a man watching over all. There was also a young woman running away from British soldiers after calling them numbskulls. Obviously she's a bit out of her time
1. Saving Kyle

**Author's Note: **_So I finished AC3 and now there's this voice in my head saying 'Fix it! Fix it! Fix it!' And that is essentially what this is, a fix-it fic. It's a slight self-insert OC, OC is designed from me but is a bit braver. I'm doing the research and replaying the game to make sure I get this right. Not Connor/OC, it's more of a friendship fic. Slight spoilers, might want to finish the game before you read this._

_FYI__: I changed some things about the manor and added the Homestead residents earlier on then when you find them in the game._

_ENJOY!_

**-X-**

**_Revolutionary Tactics_**

_**Prologue:**_

_In the darkness, after the end, while the world still burned, two voices spoke._

_The words echoed in the deepest darkest pit, far away from any living thing, in a place where no one would ever think to listen._

_These voices, in this place, they spoke of revolutionary tactics._

"_The spark is dead, all is lost."_

"_No, there is still hope."_

"_How can you say that Tinia?"_

"_You think I would only allow one spark to exist Minerva?"_

"_You mean, all this time-"_

"_I did not trust Juno to go down so easily, something told me to be ready. There fore I instilled another and have a plan for this new spark."_

"_Truly?"_

"_Truly."_

"_So there is still hope, there is another?"_

"_There is another."_

**-X-**

**Chapter 1: **_Saving Kyle_

_December 14__th__, 2012. East Texas, in a meadow._

It was actually snowing this year!

The past two years Texas hasn't gotten any snow, but this year we're getting a plethora of the little white flakes. It was so beautiful to still see the red, orange, and yellow leafed trees covered in white. It was very rare Texas got this much snow at all; I was actually getting to use my snow days this year. I'd been out of school the last three days, just chilling at home with hot chocolate and my sketchpad.

But today my backyard called to me, and to help you picture it imagine a forest on all sides, stretching as far as you can see, only one medium sized stone house settled in the center, nothing else but trees. My family actually runs a ranch out here. We had horses, cattle, and mules. I've grown up here, and I've always been in the forest, my blood was practically made up of raw dirt and leafs.

My dad had taught me hunting and fishing out here, my step dad bow hunting, but I've never killed an animal for sport before, but I am well practiced in firearms and bows. So you see, I am a nature girl by heart but not for the more sportsman side of it, more for the beauty.

Usually you would find me inside however, drawing, writing, and playing video games. But today was so perfect, the snow falling, sun up, cool and shining. My pencil begged for the chance to draw the meadow a few meters from my house. It was the only clearing for miles, not man made either.

My black leather combat boots crunched against the snow, I don't normally wear these boots as I am unpracticed on walking in them, but walking around in Converses in the snow was not a good idea. Also I got cold easily, still a chill biting at me with so many layers on, I wore a long sleeved shirt under a gray hoody, which was under a black leather jacket. My hoody was up but did not cover my long curly auburn hair. I even wore a silk red scarf around my neck as well as fingerless leather gloves. Yet even after all of that I was still cold!

There was a large boulder at the edge of the meadow, I remember resting there after my play fights with the many male friends I had had as a young girl. If there was one thing people could not say about me it was that I am not good fighter, because frankly I was or am. But it had been at least three years since I had gotten in a decent brawl, people told me I looked frail but I wasn't, my dad had taught me tactical fighting, which most would call dirty fighting, but _hey_ what worked _worked_.

I sat down on that boulder and settled, putting my sketchpad in my lap and pulling my pencil from my pocket. The meadow was silent except for the quiet sounds here and there. It was a complete circle with no trees except for the ones that surrounded it.

I began to sketch this, a light sketch, and every time I'd make a mistake I'd lightly erase and try again. Trying to get the leafs just right was hard for me, as well as how to rightly represent the snow on the ground. But when I got to the lower part of the sketch, drawing the center of the meadow, something caught my eye. There was something shining right below the snow.

As I am a curious person and one that sought knowledge at every turn, I set my pencil and sketchpad down and walked lightly over to the center of the meadow. I kneeled down when I saw what was causing the light and glare. I dusted off what looked like a sphere, when I could see it more clearly it looked like the top of a disco ball.

My brows furrowed, I felt confusion and something else curl in my gut. I then put the palm of my hand down on the top of the orb, tracing it in the snow. There was a spark, like a small bit of lightning going through my hand and up my arm. I tried to pull back, a reflex action, but my hand was stuck.

My heartbeat started to race, panic settling in, I kept trying to tug my arm back but no matter what it wouldn't budge. Suddenly the ground started to shake underneath me, but the trees around me did not move. Birds cawed and flew off as the Earth began to quake. At that moment I wished I had wings too.

Abruptly my arm began to lift, but it wasn't my arm that was actually rising it was the sphere. A pedestal was coming up from the ground, the sphere on top of it. Around me three arched beams rose as the pedestal did, each one's sharp end pointing directly to the center, right at me.

I was practically sweating bullets. All this was happening so fast, and you know it wouldn't be so bad if I actually knew what was going on! One second I'm sketching, I find a buried disco ball, then _boom_ I'm stuck to the essence of the seventies and about to get, I don't know, shot by lasers?

Actually I was closer than I thought. The sharp edges of each of the arches were starting to charge up with what looked like lightning. Sparks were going every where now, some forms striking right next to my feet, getting closer and closer each time they shot out.

'_Okay I'm about to get grilled alive by, what, Zeus' left out toys? Think, THINK, THINK, THINK! I am not going to die because of a DISCO BALL!'_ I grabbed my arm roughly with my other hand, I tried tugging and pulling, but no amount of force would budge the thing off of me.

Then one bolt of lightning hit the sphere, it started to glow lightly and give off this tingling feeling that started to flow into my body. I felt myself fading, it wasn't painful, it actually felt like it was taking away my ability to feel all-together, like the feeling after complete numbness. And when another bolt struck the ball, that feeling multiplied by ten, my eyelids were beginning to feel heavy, and when I looked down at my arm it was transparent. If I didn't feel high as a kite I would scream.

Finally the last arch sent a bolt of lightning out and it hit the orb dead on, there was a sudden explosion of golden glowing light and my eyelids became to heavy. I closed my eyes and let my muscles go lax, it felt like something caught me but I didn't get to think about that for long as everything went black and I fell into unconsciousness.

"_Tread carefully, you are humanities last hope."_

**-X-**

_Richmond, Virginia. March 23, 1775. _

"_No man thinks more highly than I do of the patriotism, as well as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just addressed the House."_

My head felt like someone had just made a smoothie out of my brain. My eyelids flutter open slowly, a small amount of sunlight shining down onto me. My vision is blurry, and my body trembles as I try to get up. The first thing I realize is it is hot, like all of a sudden summer. The next is that there is stone like concrete under my hands, and two buildings beside me. I am in some sort of alleyway, a strange looking one at that. I can hear people walking around on the streets, but one voice rings above all others.

"_But different men often see the same subject in different lights; and, therefore, I hope it will not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen if, entertaining as I do opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak forth my sentiments freely and without reserve."_

It sounded like someone was on their soap box, the voice most definitely male and very loud. I muttered curses under my breath as I got up shakily. I used the brick wall next to me as a support, my legs like noodles. I then tried to remember what had happened, if I had fainted, and if I actually knew where I was.

"_This is no time for ceremony. The question before the House is one of awful moment to this country. For my own part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery; and in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the debate."_

Something about those words sounded familiar. Like some speech I'd learned in a classroom once. I couldn't shake the strange feeling inside of me. I pushed myself forward, slowly. Sunlight finally hit my face as I got to the exit point of the alley. What I saw shocked me.

"_It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfill the great responsibility which we hold to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offense, I should consider myself as guilty of treason towards my country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings."_

Streets you'd only see in an old painting, people you'd only see at reenactments or in movies. It felt like the colonial era all over again. While my brain was trying to think of a reasonable explanation for this my gut already knew and was freaking the _frick_ out!

'_OH MY GOD THAT DISCO BALL WAS A TIME MACHINE!'_ I mean, how do you not think time machine when you see something like this? There was no way someone could do this good a job of re-building the original Richmond from during… _Patrick Henry's speech_! Give me liberty or give me death! How could I not have recognized that?!

"_Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty?"_

'_Okay, I know where or when I am. Now big question; how do I get home? You know, if this isn't just one hot chocolate induced dream.'_ The thought quickly crossed my mind as I decided to pull the hood over my head, something told me my extremely green eyes might or might not draw attention to me. I'd really rather not take the risk, and I didn't even think about the fact I was wearing blue jeans and large amounts of leather on my person.

I walked out of the alley cautiously, as I did I saw Patrick Henry speaking to the people and his fellow patriots, almost literally on a soapbox. I thought I read he spoke in some type of capital building? _'Huh, guess they got that wrong.'_ So many people were gathered around him that I could easily hide my presence from others, all of their attention being on the speaker.

"_Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it."_

Richmond, if I remember my history right, looked exactly how the paintings had depicted it. The old brick buildings, the new coble stone streets, the horses, the people, everything. It was absolutely beautiful; my hands itched to sketch it. But I had to resist the urge and keep walking, soldiers in old blue uniforms were gathered around Patrick Henry, but British soldiers in red uniforms weren't too far off, keeping their eyes on the rebels.

As long as everyone focused on good 'ol Patrick I'd be fine. I started walking away from the crowd, trying to get as far away from wherever I was as I could possibly get.

"_I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the House. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received?"_

Question was though; where would I go? Who would know what happened to me? Who would believe me? I was lost in a city in the seventeen hundreds! I stopped dead at the thought; would I ever get home? I had turned and now there was a building blocking my view of Patrick as well as the sun. I sighed, and then jumped aside as a large group of marching Redcoats nearly ran over me.

"Stay out of our way gurl!" One yelled as they headed straight toward where Patrick Henry's speech was taking place.

Were they going to stop the speech? They couldn't, history said Patrick finished his speech! Something wasn't right, my gut was telling me to run back, make sure history played out. But what could I do? The only thing I could do was create a…distraction. _'Oh sometimes I hate my life.'_

I sighed again, deeply, as I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. Before I could dissuade myself from the act I found myself running_. 'This is such a BAD idea! I'm so going to die!'_ I yelled inside my head as I quickly turned the corner again to see the Redcoats getting close to the crowd_. 'A girl that's clearly suspicious drawing attention to herself purposely, great idea, glad I thought of it!'_ I sarcastically scolded myself as I rolled my eyes, still running towards the British soldiers.

Why would I commit what is clearly a bad decision? Because I'm a history buff and I've always respected people that fight for what they believe in, so, guess what? I'm about to sacrifice myself to save one of the speeches that really pushes America to be free. Well, what would you do in my place?

"_Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir."_

I took one last deep breath before skidding right out in front of the soldiers; they stopped abruptly and glared at me. My mind went blank, and then I had a brain vomit.

"Did you're mother dress you, or did you dress yourself?" I said in an insulting aggressive tone. I smirked but that smirk slowly faded as I realized they were just standing there, blinking at me as if they hadn't understood my insult. I sighed and shook my head. "It means that you look horrible, 'ya numbskulls!" I shouted, frustrated, my very light southern accent coming out.

That's when they got angry, at the numbskull bit that is. They started shouting angrily and that's when I started running and they started running after me!

"_These are the implements of war and subjugation; the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument?"_

'_Yes, let's try argument!' _I thought as I was running, to and fro, trying to stay away and dodge swords and bayonets. The Redcoats had split up, trying to take me from all sides, shish kabob me like meat. Some blocked the entrances to the alleyways I was trying to escape down, I would always turn the opposite direction though, and some were trying to grab me.

"_Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament."_

I was basically circling the center of Richmond, Patrick staying right in the middle. I was trying to evade the British bunch but they were on my tail at every turn. I was starting to run out of breath, wondering how Connor could ever possibly do this, out run all of these soldiers for so long.

But when I thought of Connor an idea popped into my head. I was running down one of the cobble stone roads, I turned a corner abruptly, out of British sights for at least a second, and jumped into the back of a wagon carrying hay.

It was itchy, warm, smelled, and was uncomfortable but from what I could see through the bale the soldiers were stumped about where I had disappeared too.

"_Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne! In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free — if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending — if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained — we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is left us!"_

I stayed in the wagon for a while; it seemed to be making circles too. I kept seeing the same buildings over and over again, and every few minutes I could see the crowd that was still gathered around Patrick. _'God, I don't think he's taken a breath yet!'_ I've been able to hear him this entire time, and it seems like hours now, but he still wasn't finished!

I wondered then though, the wagons of hay, the redcoats, everything. It all seemed so much like Assassin's Creed three. I had just finished it days earlier, and now I felt like I was in it. But a time traveling disco ball was one thing, but a disco ball that can travel through dimensions, I don't think so. That was just too impossible.

That didn't mean I didn't wish it was true though.

"_They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. The millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable — and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come."_

If I remembered right, the speech was winding down to an end now. So I decided to jump out of the wagon, carefully I might add, and skirt around the soldiers. When I was out I headed into the back of another alley. I tried to be silent, hood up all the way again.

The alley smelled of death and something else, not that everywhere didn't already smell of horse crap. There were people, devious looking men, dotting the alleyway doing devious deals. I avoided eye contact and tried to disappear, they seemed to not have noticed me, and I took a deep breath as I exited the alleyway.

But then I ran smack dab into more British soldiers.

"Oi! You're the gurl from earlier! Get her!"

And then I was running for my life _again_, for the second time in the past two hours. _What a day, right?_ I just kept running, even when my legs burned and I felt exhausted. My lungs were on fire as I breathed quick shallow breaths. I just wanted a break, to be back home, but no! The British have to come after me. It's only just now I remember I'm basically an anglophile. The irony!

I run down another alleyway, but the difference this time is that this alleyway has no back exit. It's just five Redcoats, a brick wall, and me. Talk about between a rock and a hard place!

"You're gonna die now gurly." The one in the center of the five growled, he held out his bayonet and kept getting closer. I had my back to the wall and couldn't move as two other soldiers blocked my only other way past.

Before I know it the bayonet is on my shoulder, about to make its way inside my flesh. This was it, I was going to die. _'I hope your stupid speech was worth it!'_ I begin to cringe and close my eyes as I waited for the pain.

"_**It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace — but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!"**_

The pain never came. No death for my Liberty. Instead the sharp tip touching my covered shoulder was suddenly gone. My brows furrowed and I frowned. What could have happened? Did he decide not to kill me? I was afraid to open my eyes, incase he was just waiting for my guard to lower and my stance to relax.

But when I did open my eyes I gasped, heart leaping into my throat. There, standing not two inches away from me was a hooded figure. Brown-gold eyes gazed intensely into my emerald ones, I felt myself freeze, not with fear but with anticipation.

It was Connor, no doubt what-so-ever in my mind about that. I guess that disco ball can travel through dimensions after all. The question was; did he just save me? If so, why? Not that I'm not thankful, because I am very thankful! So thankful in fact I found myself with a face full of Connor's chest as I hugged him as tight as I could.

"THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!" I said so quickly my own head was spinning. Connor was tense as I hugged him, most likely as he thought I was going to attack him, but once he realized I was just hugging him he relaxed.

"Are you alright?" He asked gently, his hand on my shoulder, the shoulder that was nearly stabbed. Connor actually sounded concerned, this made me feel a thousand times safer. You'd never hear that tone from Altair! Not unless you were either Maria, Darim, Sef, or Malik. So, to say the least, I was so very glad the disco ball was kind enough to drop me here instead of the eleventh century.

I took a deep breath and steadied myself. I then looked up so that I could answer Connor clearly. I nodded at him. "Yeah, I'm okay." I swallowed, wetting my dry mouth and tongue. Connor stepped back, but left his hand on my shoulder.

"I am glad. I was surprised to see someone risk themselves to save Mister Henry's speech. I am sure he is grateful for such an act, but perhaps next time be more prepared for such action." He stated, his hand now patting my shoulder. A strange smile came across my face at his words; it was the smile of an exhausted person who just got punched in the face by realization.

Connor was supposed to save Patrick's speech; he was most likely poised and ready to defend it. All I did was lose a few pounds to my already tiny frame, running around in circles like I did. I felt so stupid.

Funny thing is, or it was to me, that was the moment my body decided it was too tired to stay awake any longer. So it shut down and I passed out in Connor's arms.

Boy did I feel like a girl!

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead, March 24, 1775._

"What is that?"

"I do not know, I found it in her coat."

I was starting to wake up; I could hear two familiar voices hovering over me. I shifted and groaned; it didn't hurt this time. Actually it felt like I was waking up from a good night's sleep, instead of a freaking coma like last time. The more I began to wake the more I realized that I was warm, comfortable, and could smell something cooking.

"Looks like she's waking up."

I was so very tempted to mutter; _'five more minutes mommy'. _But I think Achilles, if I'm right that that's who that was, would find that a bit insulting. So instead I kept my mouth shut and opened my eyes. Only a small amount of light was streaming in through the windows, my head was already tilted that way, and from what I could see through said windows I was guessing we were on the second floor of the manor.

Did that mean I was in Connor's bed? Well, this has been an interesting first day. I turned my head to see Achilles sitting beside the bed and Connor standing by him. I then looked past them to see my jacket, hoody, scarf, and gloves lying on a chair next to Connor's desk at the corner of the room. Had they been rifling through my things? And I thought privacy was more than a concept.

"Good morning miss…-" Achilles said, waiting for me to introduce myself. My brain did loop to loops when he asked this. If I used my real name they'd be suspicious, my real name would be funny sounding at best to them. I had to think of a different alias and quick!

Instantly I remembered a story I had written once, where a girl ends up traveling to another world entirely due to strange circumstances. Her name pops into my head and I have another case of brain vomit. "Kyle! My names Kyle."_ 'Oh, smooth move idiot! Give them a guy's name! That's not strange!'_ My mind once again scolded me like a child and I just tried to sit up while ignoring the harsh words. One day I really needed to see a psychiatrist.

"Well, Miss Kyle you fainted in the alleyway." Connor comes up and explains. I finally succeed in sitting up in the bed and I leaned against the headboard as I watched him. Achilles watches me closely and all I can say is it's terrifying being under the scrutiny of an Assassin, even as old as he is. "I did not know where to take you as the soldiers were still looking for you. So I brought you here, not far from Boston. You will be safe here, we are where the British dare not tread." He finishes, holding his arms behind him as he elaborates.

I look around and nod. "Thank you, if you hadn't saved me those soldiers would have shanked me for sure." There is a quick look of confusion from Achilles and Connor when I say shank, but it passes. Obviously they use the context clues to figure out what that means.

"Yes they would have, but… do you have some where to go? Do you have any where that you can stay?" Achilles asked, his hands on his cane as he leaned closer to me. I bit my bottom lip as he did; I truly had nowhere else to go. I shook my head and Achilles sighed. "Well this place has already become a sanctuary for those who have no where else to go, you might as well stay here." He stated, a small smirk appearing on his face.

I beamed at that. I could stay here with Connor, Achilles, and the others of the Homestead! It made sense that he offered me this; Connor would have done the same. So, lucky me I already had a nice place to stay. But something inside of me itched for more, so much more. But one thing at a time.

I nodded gratefully to the two. "Thank you! I wish I had some way to repay you, but I don't really have anything." I admitted knowing all I had was what I had in my pockets. To tell the truth, I didn't even remember what was in my pockets.

"You are welcome, no need to worry about repayment." Achilles said as he stood, tipping his hat. "Now if you excuse me I have supper to attend to." He stated as he slowly trekked across the room and outside the door. I could hear him walk down the stairs before he was out of earshot.

I looked back up to Connor then to see him playing with something rectangular and silver in his hands. My eyes widened when he flipped the top of it off and fire came out. _'My zippo!'_ Now my brain was officially crashing, if that had been in my pockets who knew what else was.

"What is this? How is fire coming out of it like a candle?" Connor asked curiously as he gazed at it in wonder. I didn't know what else to do but jump up and yank it from his hands. I closed the top and quickly went to shove it back in my jacket pocket.

"It's just something my dad gave me a long time ago. He…-" I paused, trying to come up with a convincing lie, all that came out was this: "He invented it. The stupid thing ended up burning his shop down and killing him, the daft idiot." I ended up chuckling sadly, not an intended side effect to the strange declaration but it seemed to push the lie home.

"I…. am sorry for your lose." Connor apologized, his tone sad as he held his head down. While I started putting my clothes back on he continued to speak. "What of your mother then?" He asked, turning to me as I zipped up my hoody.

"Also gone." I said bluntly, not completely a lie since she doesn't exist yet. I then pulled my leather jacket on and pulled the hood up over the jacket. "I've been alone for a while. The only things I've found to do to pass the time is help the rebels." _'Or save a speech and nearly get myself killed.'_ I thought as I sighed and began to put my boots back on. I decided to leave my scarf and gloves behind, I was warm enough.

"Yes, I noticed. It was a very brave thing you did, diverting the Regulars away from Mister Henry's speech. I spoke with him about it while you were unconscious, he is very thankful." Connor nodded, a small smile on his face as he watched me. When my boots were finally on we started walking towards the stairs, Connor in front of me, leading the way.

'_Great, an important person in US history owes me one. Nice.'_ I smirked and tried not to laugh as I thought of how strange that was. "Yeah, well, I did it to protect the liberty he was talking about." That's when an unspeakable urge over came me, and a whole heap of brain vomit occurred. "By the way, how were you able to stop those Redcoats? Where did you learn to sneak like that?" I asked, leaning closer to Connor as we hit the last step of the stairs.

"I-" Connor paused; you could practically hear the gears turning in his head. He had to think about his response. "I can not say." He finally stated, and I nodded in understanding.

"I get it. Don't worry about it, I'm just glad you were able to save me." I admitted as we walked into the kitchen/dinning room of the manor. Connor nodded, a look in his eyes that said he was grateful I understood. Achilles seemed to be making something in the kitchen, as he stood over a stove, and at this point it could have been rabbit for all I cared, I was starving!

"By the way," Achilles turned to the two of us as we stood at the threshold of the kitchen. He looked content, his hands on his cane as he slowly walked towards us. "I am Achilles and this," Achilles pointed his cane at Connor before slowly putting it back down. "-Is Connor. The manor you are standing in now is my-_our_ home; we call this land Davenport, or as Connor calls it; Homestead. Already others like yourself have made houses here, there is a man by the name of Lance O'Donnell who might be willing to help you build if you are interested in staying." Achilles explained, then tipped his head again and went to sit at the table.

"But until you have a home of your own you are welcome to stay here." Connor added as he sat down beside Achilles at the table. He looked over at Achilles after saying this however, he probably was checking to see if it was actually okay with the Old Man that I could stay here. When the offer was not taken back I guessed it was okay with Achilles as well.

I couldn't help but smile, a warm fuzzy feeling in my gut. It made me feel so much safer knowing that even though I was so far away from home I still had somewhere I could be. I stood at the table then, and when Achilles nodded towards a seat I sat down.

"Connor tells me you gave those British bastards a run for their shillings. What else have you been up to?" Achilles asked, a deep chuckle in his voice as he spoke. It was then I remembered how this _'Old Man'_ acted towards Connor at first, he was so cold, but from what I can see now Connor truly has melted his old icy heart.

This made me smile too. I shrugged to his question though. "Not much." I put my elbows on the table and leaned in. "Although I have been looking for answers." And here came some more brain vomit from my devious and tactical mind. "I hear rumors, whispers really, about some of the higher up British soldiers not really working for the crown. Some guy-_person_ said they all worked under one certain guy-dude-_man_. They call themselves knights or something, like some secret order. Weird, right? I hear those guys-_men_ are trying to stop the rebels. But if their not working with the Redcoats, then why would they want that?" I struggled to maintain proper English while speaking to the two colonial era Assassins. But in the end they got the gest of the mess.

I sighed and leaned back in the chair as I let the two chew on what I had said. "But, when I went to investigate the rumor I nearly got my head chopped off. So I decided to leave it be and focus on protecting the rebels." I shrugged again in innocence, and just played my hand.

From across the table Connor and Achilles were having a staring match. Some type of silent argument, it really says a lot about someone when they can have a whole disagreement with no words said at all. I wondered what they were fighting about, I pretended not to notice but when the room became incredibly tense it was hard not to.

Finally Achilles sighed and the two stopped staring at one another, from Achilles' sigh I imagined that Connor had won. The two said nothing however and I was left completely in the dark. I pouted on the inside and stayed silent. I understood if they didn't want to tell me, I could be Templar for all they knew. I'd have to prove myself first. I could do that.

"Connor, the stew should be done." As Achilles said this Connor got up and started serving what I imagined was rabbit soup. Well I did say I was hungry enough. In the end it was okay, it filled me up and that's all that mattered.

Nothing else was really said after that, except for my thanks for the meal and my question of where I should sleep. Connor offered his bed and I told him I didn't want to impose, the floor was just fine. When Connor caved and let me sleep on the floor he ended up giving me his blue blanket, the one he slept on in the stables so many years ago. I took it and fell asleep beside Connor's bed.

And yes I slept in my clothes, because guess what I found in my jacket pockets; a rubber ball, my second sketchbook, my ipod, a pencil, and the already established zippo. I was so close to butter fly effecting this era it was scary. Later I would decide a locked chest was the best place for these things, well some of them anyway, but until then the jacket would remain in my sights or hidden.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead, March 26, 1775._

A day or so passed, and even though I should have been talking to Lance about a home I found myself hanging around the manor instead. I still hadn't been out to meet the rest of the Homestead gang yet actually, but I was busy with other things the first few days.

Every morning Connor would get up early and disappear until noon, then come back and wake me up for breakfast, which would usually be fresh milk and bread. The second day I admitted I was good at hunting and fishing, nowhere near as good as Connor but I wanted to help, so I offered my services. After that Connor started waking me up early, because that's where he would go at sunrise, out to hunt. Lucky me right? Up at the crack of dawn to track doe, it was exhausting but the best learning experience of my life.

After the first day of hunting, which was more or less me trying to figure out how to use Connor's bow that he had leant me, we decided some lessons would be in order.

First let me establish how warm it is in Davenport during March, warm enough to have me sweating like a pig with sweat glands. So a smart decision on my part was to leave the scarf, hoody, leather jacket, and long sleeved shirt in a secret place at the manor, I did however wear the gloves. The day before hand, thanks to my clothes beginning to smell like moldy hay, Connor had given me an old tunic shirt of his. It was big on me but fit nonetheless, I wasn't that much shorter than Connor just a lot less muscled. I kept my blue jeans on though.

So I was out in the middle of the forest, the sun just barely raised, with a sling of arrows slung over my shoulder and a flat back wooden bow in my hands. We had walked a ways, Connor tip toeing around as if Templars could pop up at any turn.

We then reached a spot where the sun came down just enough to see a tall oak in the center of what was similar to my meadow at home. The oak looked to be marked with many holes, as if Connor had used this tree to train as well.

I did have to admit Davenport was beautiful. I thought in the game it was amazing; imagine seeing it with your own two eyes. Flowers were in bloom, animals were everywhere, trees towered above us, and the grass was greener than I'd ever seen before. I was most definitely going to sketch some of this as soon as I could.

"Show me what you know." Connor said, breaking the silence and my train of thought about the surroundings. I looked over at him, his arms crossed as he was watching me carefully. He was teaching me, sure it wasn't how to use a hidden blade, but it was a start.

I pulled the bow up in my arms, put my fingers on the wooden bit of the bow where I was trained to and plucked at the string. It was strong and moved like a rubber band, as it should. I tested my grip then pulled an arrow out of my pack. I slowly slotted the arrow between the string and wooden part of the bow. I pulled back then looked sideways down the arrow in aiming. When I was happy with where the arrow was I pulled back, relaxed my shoulders, took a deep breath, and let go.

The arrow sailed through the air and landed about four inches down the tree from where I aimed it. I gritted my teeth in frustration, getting used to using a different bow could be difficult sometimes. My brows furrowed as I angrily sighed and looked over to Connor. I didn't imagine he was going to hold up a paper card saying ten any time soon.

"Good." Was the simple one word response he gave me as he nodded his head and rubbed his chin in thought.

I tilted my head and gave him a confused and exasperated look. "Good? That was terrible!" I argued, and if this had been my bow instead of Connor's I would have let it fall to the forest floor out of frustration.

Connor simply shook his head and walked behind me. He got way to close for comfort as he started situating my shoulder and fingers to where they needed to be on the bow. I was trying not to breath as he was actually so close to me I felt his chest touching my back. I couldn't close my eyes and panic though, I had to pay attention to what he was showing me. I knew this was going to happen, it's the exact same thing that happened when my dad was showing me how to use a bow. Yet that was very _very_ different. But if Connor was going to teach me anything I needed to pay attention!

He moved my fingers about an inch higher on the bow then they were before, he pushed my shoulder down then moved my other hand to the string. He gently handed me an arrow and helped me slid it into place.

"Take a deep breath, then let go. Don't tense up." He whispered in my ear, I closed my eyes and took two deep breaths in _in fact_. I tried to shake off the feeling of hormones in my system; I was unsuccessful so I just pushed it to the back of my mind.

'_I can do this, I can do this.'_ I chanted in my head as I adjusted my grip on the string, took a deep breath, and relaxed my shoulders. Then I simply let go and watched the arrow fly. It hit dead center this time and I cheered. "Yes!" I fist pumped and watched as Connor smiled, him now standing off to my right.

"Good." He nodded to me. "Now do that a hundred more times." He stated abruptly and very seriously. I looked at him, my jaw now on the ground. I can imagine my expression was like that of a very surprised cat. "If you wish to master the art, you must practice it first." Connor explained and I sighed, because I knew he was right.

I had eight arrows, I had to practice that shot a hundred times, can you do the math? I had to go fetch those same arrows about every five minutes. But I did it, no whining or complaining. Connor even trusted me to do the training enough, in fact, that he left me alone so that he could go hunting. Because Connor actually went hunting for everyone here at the Homestead too, not just for him and Achilles, _well_ everyone that couldn't hunt or fish for themselves already anyway. It made me proud to say that soon I'd help feed the people of Homestead too! Just like Connor and Myriam.

It was noon by the time I was done practicing. Connor came back just as the sun was over the trees, to see about my progress. When I showed him that I could get the arrow right in the center of the tree every time, the only thing he said was:

"Tomorrow we will try a moving target then."

'_Oh joy!'_

**-X-**

Lunch came and passed, Achilles was happy to hear about my rigorous training. He laughed lightly then asked Connor how I'd done. Connor said that I was a good listener, a quick leaner, and already had some skill. Connor also mentioned my irregularly fast heartbeat. When Achilles asked Connor to explain Connor told him what had happened, the second he did Achilles was laughing harder then I'd ever seen him laugh before. Obviously he understood what was going on, I cursed at him under my breath as I blushed, but Connor just stood there with a deadpan look on his face.

As soon as we were done eating, Connor asked me if I would like to help with something else. I nodded and told him I was always happy to help. After saying that Connor dragged me back outside to Lance's house. Lance was already outside working on some type of chair.

"Oh, so this is Kyle! How do you do my lady?" Lance said as he went to kiss the top of my hand. I tried to smile but all that came out was a crooked thing on my face. I covered that up by embarrassedly fake laughing.

"Uh, hello Mister O'Donnell." I responded politely, taking his hand with my other hand and shaking it. Lance looked confused but then went _'o' _with his mouth as if he suddenly understood something. I think I could read his mind because to me he was thinking _tomboy_. If the clothes didn't already explain it then the handshake did.

"We are here to help." Connor finally explained. When he did I took my hand back from Lance and took a step back, so that I was standing beside Connor, nodding to assure I was also there to help.

"Oh, splendid! I need some more wood actually. I even have the perfect bit of trees picked out for the job. I've marked them with chalk, they stand at the end of the clearing near the cliff." Lance said, pointing the direction in which they stood. Connor nodded in understanding and grabbed the axe Lance was handing him.

I said goodbye to Mister O'Donnell and headed after Connor. I followed him to exactly where Lance was talking about, on the way though I kept getting my long hair stuck on branches and twigs. The one thing that I could have used, which was not in my magic future pocket, was a ponytail holder. So I decided that I'd get a hair cut soon. _'Maybe I'll ask Myriam.'_ I thought as suddenly a tomahawk is shoved right into my arms.

"Oof!" I exclaim, looking down at the dangerous sharp weapon in my hand. I try not to just drop it and run, well _try_ is relative. Instead I take a deep breath and adjust my grip on it to where my hand is holding the handle, far far away from the blade.

"Here." Connor then points to the middle of the tree. It's not a very round tree, quite thin actually. But the tree was tall and still had a good bit of wood to it. Connor obviously wanted me to cut there, strike the tree with the tomahawk. "Show me." Was all he said as he stepped back and gave me room to swing.

I've never used anything like a tomahawk before so it's easy for me to admit I sucked at using it. Connor watched as I clumsily tried to cut down the tree. When I was at the end of my rope, breathing quickly, Connor took my hands and tried to show me how to use the weapon. He guided my shoulder and arms, showed me how to hold the tomahawk, and then he let me swing. He watched and pointed certain things out to me and when I finally got a good swing going the tree fell.

I thought then that I was done, but _no_ I had to cut down three more trees, each one thicker then the next. By the time I was done I'd swung that tomahawk about two hundred times, I was all out exhausted, and in exchange all I got was a nod from Connor and the thanks of Mister O'Donnell.

Achilles also laughed at me again, as I basically passed out as soon as we were in the manor. Connor chuckled and helped me to sit down, then he went on to explain what we had been doing that day. Achilles listened intently, and then the two began to whisper. I was sitting in the kitchen; Connor and Achilles were talking out in the hallway. I tried to listen in on their whispered conversation but I couldn't hear them, and frankly I was too tired to care.

I blinked and Achilles was in front of me, I guessed I was starting to nod off, my head on the table. I sat up again and waited for him to talk. He just analyzed me for a moment before speaking.

"If I were to offer you the answers to your questions, what would you do with those answers?" He asked me very seriously, standing as straight as he could in front of me.

I took a subtle breath through my nose and thought for a second. That was a very interesting question, what would I do? I'd act upon it yeah, to get answers to questions and do nothing. That would be pure ignorance. No, I'd have to use those answers to help benefit those who needed help, who deserved help.

When I had my answers I stood up, completely serious, hands at my side, I gazed right back into Achilles' eyes. Because this _was_ serious, this was most certainly a test I would pass. "I'd use those answers to help those who need help, to help people-_innocents_-that deserve help. I'd use those answers to do what is just, and to do what I could." I answered honestly, and for a while there was a silent pregnant pause. I thought maybe I'd said something wrong, but then a smile came across Achilles' face.

"Sit then, I have much to tell you."

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead, March 27, 1775._

Achilles was right, he had had a lot to tell me. I already knew everything he had to say but I listened intently anyway. Then at the end of his speech he asked me if I wanted to devote myself to the Assassin Order, if I wanted to devote myself to the never-ending fight against the Templars. I said yes.

For whatever reason Connor and Achilles had thought me worthy to be an Assassin, so I wasn't about to let them down now!

And that's when Achilles really started telling me secrets. Once again I already knew everything that he was telling me, but I listened. He showed me the secret basement full of Assassin gear. He explained about the paintings, and Connor even told me about his father.

In the end Achilles and Connor spoke about my training and how rigorous it would be. I told them I'd do whatever it took to be a full-fledged Assassin. This made Achilles smile. The Old Man admitted he would need help training me, as one pupil was really enough for him. So Connor decided he would take up my physical training and Achilles would take my mental training. It made sense to me.

But I told them there was just one thing I needed to do first. Which is how I found myself cringing in a chair outside Myriam's shack. The female hunter had a just sharpened knife in her hand. I closed my eyes as she gripped my long hair tightly.

"This won't hurt…._ well_ maybe just a little." Myriam said sarcastically with a light feminine chuckle as she proceeded to just whack all of my hair off in one go. "Perfect!" She stated brightly. "Now all you need is a wash, there's a waterfall just down the way." Myriam instructed and I thanked her before leaving to follow her advice.

Showering in a waterfall is definitely different. Washing my hair under clean clear rushing water that is actually quite warm is very…. awesome! It was one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life. Being clean and changing into another set of Connor's old clothes, that are also clean by the way, made me feel like a new person.

So when I walked back into the manor, short curly auburn hair freshly cleaned and cut, I could very much say that my name is Kyle and I've just become an Assassin!

**-X-**

**End Notes: **_I had so much fun writing this! I hope you had fun reading it too! I just finished AC 3 a few days ago. And I really fell in love with the chemistry between Connor and Haytham! So be prepared to see more of that in here than you did the game!_

_I'll be working to get out chapter 2 but I can't tell you when it'll be done. I also want to point out that Kyle is eighteen and Connor is nineteen. That's their ages if I never get around to mentioning that._

Another FYI:_ I did in fact know about Patrick Henry giving his speech inside the capital building in Richmond. However I had an idea already in my mind and if he hadn't been speaking outside it wouldn't have worked._

_**R&R please!**_


	2. Training Kyle

**-Revised Edition-**

**Author's Note: **_The first few chapters I have only training planned. It'll jump from day to day until I can put in some real interaction. But right now I'm just filling in and explaining how Kyle is trained. I hate to just 'poof' have her be a good Assassin. That just seems unrealistic to me._

_If you have any questions please don't be afraid to ask._

_**Special thanks to:**_

Alpha Lima One: _Well here's chapter 2, just for you! Thank you for being the first reviewer! I haven't gotten to Haytham yet but I'll be getting there soon._

LifeJumper123

Nerdman3000

kaylafig

PlutoAn

Portrait of a Scribe

BottlesandPills

ShinobiTwin05

SylphJr: _For you, I will include any historic moment you want! I am planning on going into, or at least mentioning, everything in the Revolutionary Timeline, 'cause I'm crazy for this stuff too. ^_^ Thank you so much for reviewing and I'm so glad you like the story so far!_

MzKita: _You won't think she's lucky for long. Just wait 'till you see her training regiment! XD Thank you so much for reviewing it means a lot to me! ^_^_

Katharonie

**OH MY GOD YOU GUYS! Thank you, each and every one of you! I appreciate all the support I'm getting! You guys rock!**

_(A quick extra special thanks to Portrait of a Scribe –Who pointed out the spelling for Mohican- and to Alpha Lima One –For reminding me how to spell Abstergo-. My beta is busy playing AC 3 at the moment so…yeah, thanks you guys!)_

_NOW ENJOY!_

**-X-**

**_Revolutionary Tactics_**

**Chapter 2: **_Training Kyle_

_Davenport Homestead, April 3__rd__, 1775._

A week had come and gone. Plans of getting home put on temporary hiatus. Seven days of sleeping on a floor, eating rabbit, showering under a waterfall, wearing someone else's clothes, and lastly of extensive mental and physical training.

Achilles was relentless when it came to Basic English and Philosophy. It was easy enough, since I had taken eight or so years worth of English classes, but the fact he wanted me to speak what I learned was what made it hard. Every time I'd say _guy_ or _dude_ he'd whack me with his cane. I had a bump on the top of my head now the size of my fist. Old habits die painfully apparently.

Philosophy was interesting though; I knew tid-bits of it here and there but the large majority of it I didn't know. When speaking of Philosophy Achilles would go on and on, you could tell by his tone that Philosophy was one of his favorite subjects and his favorite Philosopher was _Aristotle. _He would talk for hours on end about Aristotle, and he didn't make it boring either, he had passion behind his words. They could sometimes be empowering.

On the physical side of my training Connor was a bit kinder. We had stuck to using early morning hunting as Assassin training. He started to show me how to track animals three days ago, he's been teaching me how to use snare traps and bait, as well as how to use the tomahawk for moving targets instead of trees. When the sun would rise we'd take what we'd killed to Myriam for skinning and distribution.

We'd have breakfast after that, and then it would be Achilles' turn to teach me something. Next we'd have lunch, after lunch Connor and I would go out to help anyone that needed it. Sometimes it'd be O'Donnell, other times it would be Norris trying to woo Myriam, and every once and a while it would be us trying to save Terry from the river. All the while we're doing these things Connor would try and teach me something. It'd always be something different too, sometimes something about speed and how to move with the water, or strength and how to strike a tree.

Sometimes, from the way he spoke, it felt like Connor was the one trying to teach me Philosophy. _'You must strike through the tree.'_ _'The water's rapids will show you the path.'_ Or something _like_ that.

Today was no different, Connor still woke me before the crack of dawn, and we were out hunting. But something did feel different about today, I couldn't put my finger on it. It was like the wind had shifted or something, like a storm was coming in. Don't ask me to explain, it was more of a gut feeling than anything.

I was hiding in a bush, Connor above me in the trees. One day he'd have to teach me how to climb like that, but today I was the one with the bow, bait at my feet. A doe wasn't but two feet away from me, pecking at the grass.

She was big; she'd come up to a little taller than my waist, not including her neck and head. I was on my knees, the dew on the grass making my jeans wet. My hands were placed on the bow just like how I practiced; the doe was starting to scent the air, smelling the bait.

As she started to get closer I pulled back on the string, arrow already at the ready. I looked down at what were basically my sights, aiming the arrow directly at the doe's heart. Suddenly she stopped and sniffed the air again, I didn't move a muscle knowing that if I did she would know where I was.

My heart was steady; I breathed in through my nose and smelled the morning forest air. I wondered what it was that she could smell; if she could actually smell me? When the doe stopped and started trotting towards me again that's when I let the string go and the arrow fly. It hit dead center at its mark, piercing the deer's heart.

She went down flailing like a fish out of water, but then she abruptly stopped and laid deathly still. That's when Connor jumped down from the tree and I stood up from the bush. As Connor walked over to the deer he patted my shoulder in congratulations. I smiled, proud that I was actually getting something right for once.

The doe was the last catch of the morning, the sun rising steadily over the trees now. As we headed back to Myriam's, arms full of rabbits, foxes, or deer I saw the cliff side. We had passed by the Aquila earlier and that had been the first time I'd really gotten a good look at her. But now, as we strode past the cliffs, I could see the sun rising above the water, the light waves from the wind reflected the golden rays, those rays shined down upon the Aquila beautifully. It was a sight to behold.

I found myself stuck there, watching the sun rising from the edge of the cliff, unable to take my eyes away.

"It is beautiful." Connor suddenly said beside me, I jumped a bit having forgotten he was there. But when I looked up I could see Connor's peaceful expression as he looked out over the lake. The sun was reflected in his deep brown-amber eyes.

It felt so strange, to look up at a person that a month ago you thought was fictional. It was surreal, but after what seemed like the last two weeks, now it felt like he was what was real all along and that I had been the one living in a dream. But this, seeing this, made all of the home sick feelings I'd been enduring worth it.

I coughed politely in my hand to get Connor's attention; he looked down at me and I motioned towards the end of the cliff. No words need be said.

**-X-**

After breakfast it was Achilles' turn again. Today was about the basic premise of math and how to use it. Math, however, in the seventeen hundreds is a lot simpler than it is in two thousand and twelve. It was a little bit more complicated than adding and subtracting but easy nonetheless.

So afternoon came pretty quickly this time around, as there were no lectures or long-winded speeches to sit through, just math. When noon finally did come around though we had something other than rabbit for lunch, it was deer meat instead. I had to admit, even though I have never been a big fan of deer meat, it was a huge improvement over rabbit.

It wasn't 'till after lunch that something different started happening.

"Come again?"

"I said for you to walk around the coast of Davenport a hundred times, perhaps you should have your ears examined. I was very clear the first two times I am sure."

Okay, I was having a mini heart attack. Imagine, or really remember how big Davenport is, it takes even Connor a little while to run around the whole place. Now imagine unfit little me having to walk that distance a hundred times. I would die from heat and exhaustion! All I could do was just stare at Connor as if he had just served my death sentence.

"If you believe yourself incapable I could shorten it to fifty, no less. Your legs are weak; you could not even run from those soldiers but for a little while. The stronger you become the easier it will be for you to climb and to withstand long durations of-"

"I'll have more stamina." I put it in a nutshell for Connor as I put my hands to my hips, pouting. I knew he was right, he was almost always right. And even though it would be tough I promised to give my Assassin training my all. So I sighed and nodded. "Okay, fifty today, fifty tomorrow, and fifty until I actually think I can make a hundred. How does that sound?" I looked up at Connor expectedly, hoping that he was okay with this plan.

He nods with his arms crossed. "That will do." Then Connor is taking the dagger out of his hidden blade. One day I'd have to ask who came up with that one, an eject-able hidden blade. It comes in quite handy from what I've noticed. "Here," Connor then hands me the blade and I clumsily hold it. "You might need this."

And with that Connor left me gaping. _'Really? You're just going to leave me here to die? What a world!'_

**-X-**

Clean drinkable water was very easy to find in the forest. This place was yet to be hit by pollution and desecration. So the water was still perfect, clear and see-through. It was beautiful; I could even see the little fish at the bottom of the stream.

Also there were trees everywhere blocking the sun's light from hitting me. It filtered through the branches and leafs but I was never hit directly by the rays. The trees would range from pines to oaks, some standing tall and thick while others were short and skinny, all of them had branches full of evergreen leafs.

So I wasn't going to die from heat stroke or dehydration, it wasn't hot enough and there was plenty of water. But there were in fact bears, wolves, and angry bucks out here that could rip me to shreds. The knife was a necessity and it already came in handy.

I needed a walking stick _so_ I just used the knife and cut a branch off of a tree, that's what I've used this hidden blade knife for so far. Sometimes I hated how bad my priorities were. _' I used the only thing standing between me and death to cut down a stick. Nice.' _

I sighed, already very tired. It was my twentieth walk about, stick in hand I was ready to pass out in the lake. Really it wasn't even the fact I was tired that was driving me nuts it was the lack of company. Usually I was used to being this alone for only a little while, but being in Connor's presence almost constantly for the last two weeks has driven my need for companionship.

So when Norris shows up out of nowhere I could honestly say I was happy to see him. For some reason he was leaning against a tree, looking up into the sky. My brow rose as I watched him. I walked over to him and just kind of…stared.

That is until curiosity got to me. "Norris? What 'ya doin?" I asked like Isabella from _'Phineas and Ferb' _would have. I even tilted on the balls of my feet as I leaned forward. Norris didn't look away from whatever he was gazing at, but he did raise his hand to shush me.

"I am watching a Red Bird." Norris' Canadian accent was thick but I could still understand him. And yet I didn't quite get it. I just kept waiting for him to explain, I actually had to wait a while; he was very focused. "It _iz_ a hobby of mine. Bird watching." He finally elaborated and I nodded.

'_Looks like you learn something new every day.'_ I paused for a second after that thought and scrunched my eyes together. _'Literally.' _I then shook my head and just watched Norris for another few minutes before walking again.

"It _iz_ going to storm." Norris was suddenly walking with me as he spoke; I jumped back and fell over backwards at the abrupt surprise. I was really going to have to learn to be less jumpy if I was going to be an Assassin. Norris helped me back up and I brushed myself off. "The Red Bird, it _waz_ preparing for a storm." He added as we began to walk again.

I looked over at him, head tilted, brow raised. "So, you're that avid of a bird watcher? Didn't think you were the type. I thought you just liked to blow stuff up." I admitted and turned my head back, hands in my blue jean pockets as I looked forward, lip puffed up in thought.

I then hear Norris gasp in playful surprise beside me, I smirk at that. "I am refined, I'll have you know! I have been bird watching for years!" He stated, pretending to be aghast. But then there is a pause and very quietly and distantly Norris says: "My father taught me how."

I look over at Norris when he says that, taken aback by his straightforward words. The sentence is not said sadly so I imagine that, by the way his eyes gazed distantly forward, he was remembering a pleasant memory. When Norris looked back over at me he smiled.

I smiled back at him. "My dad taught me how to hunt, actually." Now I'm the one remembering, distantly, sadly. I remember the forest my dad would take me to, the rifle he would use, the smell of leather and gasoline. "It was the last thing my dad ever taught me really." I admit, almost silently.

The smile falls from Norris' face suddenly, and there is sympathy in his eyes. I smile again to reassure him that I was okay. He smiles back reluctantly.

"Hey," I say happily to break the tension between us. "Why don't you tell me more about yourself? Prove to me you're as refined as you say." I challenge Norris, as I turn around and start walking backwards in front of him.

Norris' gaze goes up to the sky as he thinks; he rubs his chin then starts to scratch at the little red hat on his head. He smirks as he thinks of where to start.

"_Well_," He drew out the word, as his smile grew bigger. "It all started-"

And from there on Norris told me a story, one that was full of fights with dragons, beautiful princesses, and a handsome knight. I didn't believe a word of it, I also don't really remember any of it. But as Norris finished his story I finished my fifty laps.

When all was said and done I said goodbye to Norris and headed back to the manor. Another day, another time I pass out before making it past the door. But in the long run it was a day I'd never take back.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead, April 6__th__, 1775._

All four days I go hunting, I learn, and I walk those fifty laps. By the fourth day I don't pass out in the doorway anymore, by the third week I know Philosophy like the back of my hand, and on the fourth day of the third week it rains.

The little red bird was right. A huge storm swept in-land like fog over a moor, silently and suddenly. It rained hard enough to rock the roof of the manor. The wind was bad too, shaking the windows to near shattering. I felt bad for Myriam and Norris and wondered how they were fairing during the storm.

Connor still wanted to go out to hunt that morning but Achilles stopped him. There was a big fight between the two downstairs for the duration of breakfast. When the yelling stopped Connor came upstairs and sat down on his bed. He didn't brood like I thought he would, he grabbed a book and read in silence instead.

I felt very awkward just sitting on my blanket, which still served as my bed, beside an angry Connor. I sighed, needing something to do to preoccupy my mind. What I ended up doing was grabbing my mechanical pencil that had come from my magic future pocket, and my sketchbook. I sat down below one of the windows, my back to the wall as I started to sketch Connor reading. Oddly, it was almost like he knew I was sketching him, because he didn't move a muscle.

It stormed all day long, never letting up not once. Connor ended up reading the entire time I was sketching him. You would think he was reading a dictionary it was so long. Every once and a while I'd pause and wonder what Achilles was doing. It should have been time for lunch a while ago but I hadn't seen hid nor hair of him since breakfast.

I hated the fact that Connor couldn't always see eye to eye with Achilles. I hated it when people would yell at each other; I'd always feel responsible some how. It'd just crush me, I guess, in some way.

When I finished the sketch I was fairly happy with it, and that was saying something. I usually hate everything I do, I was my own worst critique, you know? But whenever I actually liked it that meant it turned out pretty good, in my opinion.

So I closed the sketchbook and hoped that no one would ever see that sketch but me. Now I had nothing else to do, Connor was still brooding and who knew what Achilles was doing. I bit my lip as I just sat there, sketchbook in my lap, as I tried to think of something else to do.

I don't know why but I just found myself staring at Connor, not that I hadn't been earlier, but I was really analyzing him. This lead to wondering about his bloodline, usually that would lead to me thinking about Desmond but instead I thought about Ziio. Ziio was what Haytham had called Connor's mom, I remembered how awesome she was and how much trouble I had had understanding her when she spoke Mohican.

That thought lead to wondering about the Mohican language, and lastly it lead to the urge to know more about the Mohican tongue. I wanted to know some of the Mohican speech, if not so I could communicate with Connor secretly but also so that I could understand the culture better.

_I am a knowledge monster after all._

"Connor?" I called to him gently, not sure how angry he still was. Connor only shifted and made a '_hmm'_ noise. I took a deep breath, hoping Connor would take this question well. I wasn't really prepared to have a tomahawk in my skull, not that he was carrying one on him at the moment. "Could you-" I paused, eyebrows scrunched together as I tried to figure out how to say this. "Would you teach me how to, or some of the-" I paused again, this time I looked up to see Connor giving me a _spit-it-out-already_ look. "Would you mind teaching me some Mohican?" I finally asked then prepared to have a face full of rope dart.

"Why?" Was all that was said, Connor speaking the word confusedly and gently. I think he could sense how nervous I was, as he was treating me like a frightened fawn. _'Oh boy, he's rubbing off on me.'_

"I just-" How could I explain to him that I just really wanted to know without offending him? Oh I know! _LIE._ "I thought it should be something to know. Learning about new cultures is always important, right? But I guess I really want to know because I thought…. I might talk… to you in…your native tongue?" The last sentence came out shaky, as if I was admitting a dark secret. I guess I had been lying to myself, because really I just wanted to hear Connor talk in his native language.

There was a bout of silence for a moment. I could hear Connor's gears turning in his head again as he thought. After a while I thought maybe he just decided to ignore me. That is until he grabbed the hand crafted quilt from his bed and brought it over to me. He sat crossed legged in front of me and pointed to a yellow patch on the quilt.

"Otsinekwar." Connor said the word so fast I couldn't catch any of it. I got that it was the Mohican word for yellow but it just sounded like a crunching noise to me.

"Could you…. pronounce that please?" I asked looking back up at Connor from where I had been looking at the quilt. Connor nodded and pointed at a blue color on the quilt.

"Otsinekwar and oròn:ya." When saying the first word Connor would point at the yellow patch, when saying the second he'd point at the blue. "Ot-sin-ek-war." He said slowly as he pronounced the word.

I nodded and tried to repeat what he had said. "It-en-ik-or." It was more difficult than one would think, but I was trying.

"Ot-sin-ek-war." Connor repeated, going slower and sounding it out more deeply.

I tried to concentrate on what he was saying, but I kept getting distracted by, _well_, him. "Ot-sin-ik-war. No wait!" I yelled suddenly, excited as I think I finally got it, something popping into place in my mind. "Ot-sin-ek-war! Otsinekwar!" I shouted and Connor smiled at my success.

During while it was storming outside, or really for the rest of the day Connor taught me many different Mohican words. He taught me all the words for different colors and for numbers. He also taught me _okwaho_; which was the Mohican word for wolf. Connor had already noticed my favoritism towards the animal. He understood it too; I didn't have to explain it to him like I did other people.

I practiced the words in my head over and over again every chance I got. I wanted to impress Connor, _desperately_ apparently. Maybe it was because he was my teacher, or maybe there were other reasons, but no matter what it was I worked hard to go beyond the norm.

In the end I distracted Connor from his _not-brooding_ brooding and made him smile, and really that's all that mattered.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead, April 7__th__, 1775._

The next day the storm was completely gone. The only evidence left behind that it was ever here was the over flowing streams and the messed up wooden houses. Norris' place, as he lives above the mine, was fine, just a little wetter than usual. Myriam's shack however was a little less for wear and O'Donnell's brick house was untouched.

We hunted longer than usual that morning as we were making up for the hours lost yesterday. After breakfast we helped Myriam re-build certain parts of her house. Terry, Godfrey, Norris, and Lance all came to help too. We got done in record time and Myriam was very thankful, she promised us all furs as repayment. The others said there was no repayment needed but I was happy to take the fur blanket she promised me.

Now usually after lunch I'd do my laps but today Godfrey and Terry extended an invitation to both Connor and me, they asked us if we wanted to go swimming with them and the others. The both of them had been complaining about the heat the entire time we were fixing Myriam's house. So after we were done they announced they were going swimming, to cool off in the lake and that everybody else was welcome to join them.

Connor was iffy about it at first, but then I grabbed his sleeve and gave him puppy dog eyes. He raised a brow and asked me what I was doing; I sighed and begged him to let us go swimming. He gave in and we went swimming!

I ended up swimming in another of Connor's shirts, one of the bigger ones that I had been using as a nightshirt. When we got there everyone but O'Donnell was present and swimming around in the lake. Even Mister Faulkner showed up, drunk on Rum mind you, but he still ended up swimming with us.

The entire time we were in the lake Godfrey and Terry were trying to wrestle each other, Norris was sighing wistfully while watching Myriam, and Connor was having me swim laps! I get one day off and the evil Indian has me swimming thirty laps! I nearly drown ten times! Especially since I only knew how to doggy paddle! So because of that Connor was trying to teach me how to properly swim. '_Can we say super awkward? Good.' _

Just pictures it in your mind. Fewer clothes, barely any space between us, while were both completely drenched. There you go! Just got it didn't you.

Luckily that didn't last too long, I was able to pick up his swimming technique pretty quickly. The next thing though was the fact he insisted on swimming beside me and doing the laps with me. I kept running into him while I tried to swim! I felt things! And no, not that! Get your mind out of the gutter!

When the sun was starting to go down everyone called it a day. Connor and I headed back to the manor and over supper told Achilles of how the day had gone. We had vegetables that night instead of meat, I was very thankful for that. All and all though the day was a nice change of pace.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead, April 10__th__, 1775._

It's been a little over a month now since I came to be here, in the past, in a different reality. Each day that passes it seems less and less like I'll ever get home. Each week that passes I care less and less about that fact. Davenport really did seem like home to me now. The days were longer here, the month had felt like a year, and I feel like I have slotted into Homestead like a piece into a puzzle.

The daily routine was basically bred into me now, like living in Boot Camp. Connor no longer had to wake me up in the mornings, now I got up at exactly the same time he did. Hunting was becoming second nature to me; I could almost catch anything on my own now. Not including wolves, if I could I was going try to avoid killing any wolves. The better I got at hunting the more we brought back with us to Myriam's.

Myriam even requested that I hunt with her everyone once in a while. She thought it would be good for me, hunting with a feminine equal. Connor however was iffy on that too. I didn't quite understand why but apparently Myriam did. The whole thing just left me confused. It was like an inside joke going right over my head.

**-X-**

Today during Achilles' lesson I was a bit distracted. Achilles had asked Connor to cut some wood for the fireplace, _you know_ for the coming winter and fall months. Connor, for some inexplicable reason, thought it would be too hot to split wood in a shirt. So he was outside, in eyeshot of the window that I sat right next to during studies, shirtless and sweaty with the sun hitting him just right.

As you can imagine I wasn't paying a lick of attention to Achilles. And he noticed, _oh did he notice!_

I was staring, wide eyed, out the window. My chin resting on my hand as I tried to pretend I was listening and engrossed in Achilles' History lesson.

"And that is when-" Achilles paused and glanced over at me. His glance quickly turned into a glare when he noticed that I was completely ignoring him. Achilles then trudged over to me and followed my line of sight. As soon as he put two and two together he whacked me as hard as he could on the back of the head with his cane.

"Ow!" I yelped, getting shocked out of my drooling escapades. I rubbed the back of my head and looked up confusedly at Achilles. I hadn't even really noticed that I was staring.

Achilles walked over to the window and closed the blinds then limped right back over to the table, where his large history filled book lay, and he yelled: "Pay attention!" Very angrily I might add.

'_Well at least he didn't say there was going to be a test. Thank god pop quizzes don't exist yet!'_ I thought as I hopped right back into the lesson, trying to ignore the images of Connor shirtless that kept popping into my head.

_Tan skin._

_Muscular arms._

_Sweaty muscular tan chest._

_Sweaty shiny skin._

_That chest!_

'_Oh my God I'm screwed!'_

**-X-**

Achilles' lesson went a bit slower that day, as I couldn't get _that_ image out of my mind. It bugged me like a bee in my ear. It just wouldn't go away, no matter what I did.

What made it worse was when my training with Connor came around. He cut my laps in half today and decided to give me climbing pointers. This would also become routine, my new routine. I would still run laps but now I would also practice climbing trees. Connor said if I could climb trees and cliffs than climbing houses would be easier for me.

It's harder than you think though, climbing trees. My first time trying to follow Connor up a tree I ended up with two palm fulls of splinters. Connor helped me pluck each one out, and trust me when I say that it _hurt_. That's when I got the idea of using my fingerless gloves. After putting those on it was much easier for me to climb. From then on I decided to wear those everyday, it'd help me to climb and help protect my hands. My fingers, however, would still end up getting hurt.

I still couldn't quite get it the first day. Every time I tried to climb up I'd fall right back down again. At least three times I fell flat on my back and got the wind knocked out of me. It wasn't until the sun went down that I started to get the hang of it.

We'd try again tomorrow but until then it was time for supper. We had some type of chili soup stuff, it was good but I decided to keep my mental health intact by not asking what was in it. Achilles asked how training went and as a reply I showed him my beat up, calloused, bruised, and bloody hands. He stated that I should probably clean the wounds; pour some alcohol on it _(which I had no idea Achilles had a cabinet full of Scotch)_, and to wrap some bandages around both my palms.

I was fully prepared to do all that myself after supper, but Connor stopped me and instructed me to go up to _our_ bedroom-_Oh don't even get me started on that_- and to sit down on the bed. I did as told but cautiously. In the end he brought up what could be classified as a first aid kit, in the seventeen hundreds, up to the room. Basically that means a bottle of Scotch, a wet washcloth, bandages, and salve.

Salve, if you don't know, is a type of ointment made out of many different herbs and several other things. Its texture is like lotion and its color is white. It feels warm and gooey though, like a dog just slobbered all over your hand. Salve is used a lot now a-days but people in modern era like using prescription medicine instead of this stuff. It's supposed to speed up the healing process by about ten times, at least that's what they say.

And there is a small entry from my brain, _the Encyclopedia of Useless Knowledge_!

So I sat on the bed while Connor tenderly tended to my wounds. That fuzzy feeling in my gut had made a _huge_ come back. It felt like I had swallowed a kitten, and no I would never actually do that! That's just how it felt. I wanted to squirm and feel awkward but out of respect for Connor I stayed completely still and breathed in deeply.

"Connor?" I watched Connor's hands carefully, hoping to absorb the knowledge of how to wrap a bandage properly.

"Hmm?" Connor hummed back, he really wasn't much for deep verbal conversation, unless it was an argument or debate about something, and then he'd start using big words. It was a bit _strange_. Not that I didn't highly respect him for always standing up for what he believed in.

"What's the Mohican word for brother?" I asked, having something specific in mind for his response. I had already basically memorized the other words he had taught me, some new words were in order.

"Tsi'a." Connor replied as he finished bandaging my hands. He even made sure to put the right amount of salve on my poor beaten fingers. When he was finally done he got up and went to put the excess stuff away.

While he was gone and the room was silent, I whispered it, just to see how it would sound. "Tsi'a." To me, Connor was becoming my Tsi'a. To me Connor was becoming my brother.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead, April 18__th__, 1775._

It was a little before noon when Connor came stomping back into the manor. From where I was reading my assigned history book in the dining room I could hear Achilles and Connor talking. When I heard Connor come marching back down the stairs, Assassin robes on, I got curious.

I closed the book and headed Connor off before he could get to the door. I couldn't really see how he was looking at me, as he had his hood on, but I knew he wasn't too happy about being stopped.

"Where are going?" I asked, confused. I wondered what day it was then, as dates had not really been of much concern to me lately, _however_, I had a feeling they would be now.

"Mister Adams has requested my presence." Connor explained, then put one hand on my shoulder and leaned closer to me. Our faces were only inches apart. "I will be back soon. Until then continue as you have." He patted that same shoulder, and then was about to make his way out the door.

That is, until I grabbed his sleeve. "Wait! Let me come with you!" I begged. I knew Connor would be fine, if I was right he was just going to help Paul Revere in his _Midnight Ride_. But I really did want to go; meeting historical figures was always an interesting experience.

Connor swiftly turned his arm around, throwing off my grip; he grabbed my arm back, and then just as swiftly I found myself in an iron tight headlock. Connor's arms felt like they were made of stone as he held me in place. There was a quick yelp from me before I went deathly silent and still. I wanted to be afraid, I wanted to be terrified, but I was none of those things. That was the moment I realized, for some unfathomable reason, that I completely trusted Connor. When had that even started to develop?

"Escape from my arms and I will let you come." I could hear the teasing in his voice and the grin that was there, he knew I couldn't, he was just trying to prove a point.

I sighed and tried to struggle away, but no matter how much I squirmed I couldn't move an inch. I pouted then, in pure five-year-old outrage. "Fine!" I huffed and stomped. "You win! But next time I am _so_ tagging along!" I exclaimed and Connor gently let me go.

That's when something I didn't see coming happened. Connor hugged me, and I don't mean a half hug, I mean a full on hug! Like the whole two arms around me in a bear hug type thing. It lasted about a second, and then he was gone. I probably stood there blushing for about five minutes before I uttered: "Goodbye Tsi'a." And then the door to the manor was closed and I went back to studying.

I couldn't stop thinking about how warm it was, being enveloped in his arms. Just thinking about it made me miss my brother at home. I prayed that he was okay, and then that was the end of that.

**-X-**

Everything was so much quieter without Connor at the manor. After lunch Achilles went to go see to the horses, a favorite pastime of his was taking care of Ari, the tan colored mustang he had. I offered to help but Achilles declined saying I needed to start my physical training, _on my own_. It just didn't have as much appeal when Connor wasn't around. But in the long run I did the laps and went back to practice climbing trees.

Eight days ago I couldn't scale an inch up a tree, now I could almost scale a whole tree. _Well_, the smaller trees anyway. What I had a problem with was flow, I could hop from tree to tree sure, but not for very long. I'd lose my balance a lot and nearly break my neck falling down. I was very tempted to skip tree climbing training today, without Connor around to catch me I'd probably get myself killed.

But what I decided to do was to only stick to the smaller trees. It made things a lot easier and it still classified as training. Another thing was without Connor around pointing things out and stopping me to say something, I got done a lot sooner. I was done before the sun fell down behind the horizon. So I decided to sketch some, since it had been weeks since I had last been able too.

For good practice I decided to sketch the Aquila. It was the perfect time of day to do it too, the sun still up but not enough so to blind me. I could see every detail and line that made up the Aquila. It was stationed at the docks on the lake beyond the cliff. I sat on a rock just at the edge of that cliff, the perfect viewpoint.

My only complaint was that I wish I had bigger paper. Also, I just had a horrible thought; my mechanical pencil is going to run out of lead soon! I guess the sketch I did of Connor took a lot of the pencil, and I won't _ever_ be able to refill it.

The sun was lower behind the Aquila as I finished. I made the last mark before getting up, and then I nearly jumped back in surprise. If I hadn't trained myself to stop right before I go to jump back last second then I'd be falling a hundred feet headfirst right now. Achilles had been standing directly behind me, for God only knows how long. When he saw how surprised I was to see him he smirked.

"How-" I paused, just kind of making surprised yet in awe noises with my mouth. A good way to define it was my tongue going up and down in my throat, making noises similar to what a dead cat would sound like. Again, I did not swallow a kitten! "How did you do that?" I was finally able to ask, holding my sketchbook close.

"Well," Achilles grunted as he sat down where I had been sitting earlier. He looked out distantly across the lake, a sigh leaving his lips. "This Old Man still has a few tricks up his sleeve." He stated tiredly.

I stepped up behind him and kneeled down to sit beside him. He was just watching the setting sun, the flowing water, the Aquila. He was just watching, like an old Eagle will. It was a while before he spoke up again.

"So, what have you been working on?" Achilles held out his hand and I knew he was talking about my sketch. He wanted to see my sketchbook. I was very reluctant to hand it to him, but Achilles had only ever asked so little of me, I couldn't hold out on him now. So I gently handed the sketchbook to him and he took it carefully. He opened it and flipped through the pages, making humming noises as he looked at each sketch.

I, however, was now huddled in a fetal position rocking back and forth like a crazy person. I had this thing about people seeing my work, or about people touching my stuff. There was a horrible Doofenshmirtz style back-story attached to the feelings, that I'd really rather not get into.

That was when Achilles got to the sketch of Connor that I did. He stayed on that one for a while and didn't make a single sound. This made my gut churn, I couldn't stand the anxiety I was feeling. I just had to stand up and move my legs.

"This is very good." The words are deep, his tone light, as if he really meant it, as if he was struck by awe, this gave way to a pause. I stopped abruptly and looked over at him, shocked by the statement. Before I can really say anything back to him he's flipped over to the sketch of the Aquila. "You are more fit to be an artist than an Assassin." Achilles closes the sketchbook gently and stands. I stand directly in front of him, he has to tilt his head up just a little to look me in the eye, but when he does he says: "But we are happy to have you."

Before I can say anything, Achilles has slotted the sketchbook back into my hand and is walking away. I do not go after him; I just stand there, watching the high tide come in. I never thought in a hundred years I'd hear that from Achilles, so really I'm just…gonna stand here for a little while.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead, April 19__th__, 1775._

Connor is not back before early morning. Achilles is slightly on edge when I see him in the sitting room as I leave to go hunt before dawn breaks. I try to still my worries but it's always been hard for me to silence my mind. So I push it to the back, and focus on the task at hand.

The woods are still that morning, almost completely silent. I try and concentrate on catching as much prey as I possibly can, but it's difficult when all I can think about is Connor. Today, if I remember right, is the battle of Lexington and Concord; _'The Shot Heard 'round the World'_. And I was worried that Connor might get himself into trouble.

But even if I could go and find him, what help would I be? Sure I could run but I didn't even have a weapon to my name, well I had a hunting bow that was about it. If I tried taking out an army of Redcoats who had muskets while all I had was some rinky-dink arrows I'd be ripped asunder. Point being I would be absolutely no help to Connor what-so-ever, I needed way more training before going out into the field.

I let out an unexpected sigh; the fox I had been hunting heard me and poked its head up. Before I could even pull the arrow back the fox was gone. I sighed again and let my arms fall. It was going to be a long morning.

**-X-**

I wasn't able to catch much but Myriam told me it would be enough. We actually still had a lot of meat left over from the last few days. Myriam informed me that ever since I had shown up the residents of Homestead always had some food to spare. That made me pretty happy, but didn't stop the gut wrenching worry I was feeling.

When it was time for Achilles' lessons he informed me that I had the day off and I found myself just wandering around Davenport instead. It was a beautiful day but I found everything lack luster. Since when did I need Connor to enjoy anything? How had he grown on me so quickly? Two months and I found myself always wanting to be by his side. Really it did in fact feel like two years instead of just two months.

I found myself stopping in the thickest part of the woods of Davenport. I slid down the tall oak I had used to train with what was practically my bow now, on my second day here. It really had felt like such a long time since then, it felt like forever ago that I was driving my mom's Buick around, it felt like eternity since I had pizza, and it felt like an insurmountable amount of time since I took a bath in a tub.

Sure, there was a place to wash up in the manor but I preferred the waterfall. Of course when winter comes around I'll have no choice but to use the old rusted thing of a bathtub.

How had Connor snuck under my skin so quickly? Well he is really good at stealth. I tilted my head to look up through the top of the oak's foliage. The sun glittered through the sections of the green leafs. It hurt my eyes to look up at the sunlight, but it felt calming too. I started to feel sleepy, my eyes closing without my consent. And suddenly I found myself sound asleep under that tree. Even though I wasn't tired.

**-X-**

_It was dark at first. When I opened my eyes I thought I'd slept until night. This worried me, because if I had Achilles would rip me to pieces about it. But when I realized it wasn't so much as dark as there was no color, that's when I really started to panic._

_I stood; I looked down only to see pitch-black darkness. I wasn't really sure if I was standing or not, it just felt like I was standing._

"_Hello?" I called and my voice echoed._

"_Hello."_

_I turned around abruptly to follow the voice. The figure I saw glowed, spilling color and light into the areas of absolute darkness. She looked…. _No_, she was Minerva._

_I swallowed thickly, a horrible sensation burning inside of me. I believe it's called __**mortal terror**__… or hunger pains, I couldn't tell._

"_M…M-M-Min-Miner-Minerva!" If it's possible to tremble the skin off your body I'm pretty sure I was close to doing that._

"_Yes, and you have renamed yourself Kyle."_

'Well no need for introductions.'_ I thought as the woman, who seemed to be more ghost like than presence, watched me._

"_Why are you-"_

"_I am here to warn you Kyle. Ratohnhaké:ton is in danger."_

_I gasped, having my fears not only be true but that the message of it be sent to me by a person who supposedly died hundreds of thousands of years ago. Something bad was going down I could feel it!_

"_Why warn me? There's nothing I can do to help him!" I argued._

"_But there is."_

_I blinked for one second and there was a sudden flash of white light. When my eyes were opened again I had four legs instead of two. I would have been shocked had I not seen this coming. Obviously Minerva wanted to send me a similar vision as Connor had been by Juno. I was starting to see the parallels and it was scaring me._

_I was a wolf, Minerva more of a white glowing dove on my shoulder. When I looked around I was at home again. I was in my meadow and that machine that had sent me to the past was fully raised._

"_There was more than one Time Displacement Piece. We made three long ago then scattered them across the world, hiding them underneath the surface until it was time for them to be used."_

_I walked around the machine gracefully on all four of my white paws. Then suddenly we were somewhere else. What seemed like a botanical garden?_

"_The second one was destroyed by what you would call Earthquakes."_

_Suddenly the scene began to shift and roll, I watched as the Time Displacement thingy in the botanical garden was destroyed._

"_The third was discovered by those you call Templars, or as they are known more recently as Abstergo."_

_The scene in front of me changed one last time. I watched as men with swords and shields discovered the TDP. Time went by quickly and the next thing I knew an Abstergo building is being built around the TDP so that they could study it._

"_The first was meant for you and you alone to discover."_

_Before I know it I have two legs again and the human looking Minerva floats in front of me._

"_Why me?" I asked. "I'm not related to any Assassins! I don't have some mystic bloodline that can save the world!"_

"_You have knowledge."_

_It was Minerva's only answer to my question and that really confused me! I mean, remember what I said about being the Encyclopedia of Useless Knowledge? Yeah, well, that hadn't changed._

"_You were chosen, that is all you need to know for now. All will be explained in time."_

_I sighed and rolled my eyes at the ancient figure._

"_Oh, by the by, how did you get that Time Displacement thingy into a different reality anyway?"_

_I had to ask, because seriously? Time travel is one thing but Dimension travel is very much something else!_

"_We did not."_

'Uh…. okay, that's not creepy and suspicious sounding.'_ I thought sarcastically._

"_The reason I have showed you this is not for you to ask questions you need not the answers to! A Templar has discovered how to use the machine. They are here in this time, their goal is to kill you and Ratohnhaké:ton."_

_I found breath being caught in my lungs, my eyes widening, and heart pumping. Someone else was here from the future, but not to help little 'ole me, no God forbid that! No, it was a Templar with most likely futuristic weapons and lots of specialized training! And the kicker? Connor and me are their targets! One Indian with spades of training but no understanding of tech and one girl from the future who understands tech butt-louds but couldn't kill a stick if she tried!_

'Were so screwed!'

"_You must protect Ratohnhaké:ton! He will be at the historical sight of Lexington. You haven't much time, you must go!"_

"_But-"_

**-X-**

I woke up gasping, trying to breath. My body felt like it was on fire, and I was sick to my stomach with nausea. And my head, my head felt like somebody had put a bomb in my ear and blown my brains out!

I could only imagine that these were the side effects of an Ancient One talking to you without the help of a Piece of Eden. If that was the case next time she could just call my cellphone!

As much as I felt like throwing up I had to push past it. I needed a horse and something handheld to protect myself with. The sun was still up over the forest, and I was still right where I remembered falling asleep, right under the oak.

What I hadn't remembered was the wolf that was sitting right in front of me. It sat there calmly, just staring at me as if analyzing me. It had something in its mouth too.

It walked up slowly and I tensed. Its eyes were an unbelievable blue color and that's when I realized that there was no way this was a full-blooded wolf. Sure it's coat and ears were exactly like a wolf, but it's eyes and the collar around it's neck proved other wise.

It walked up to me slowly, than begin to sniff me. I held out my palm carefully and it sniffed my palm. From where his head was tilted I could just make out the carving in its collar. It read; _Balto_. I laughed at the irony of that name.

"Okwaho erhar." I said wolf-dog in the Mohican tongue. Balto must have realized this as he looked up at me and dropped the thing he was carrying in his mouth into my hand. It was a dagger with the words _Ga Okwaho_ on it. I didn't know what _Ga _meant but I could only reason that this had belonged to a Mohawk Indian, until that is; Balto here brought it to me. I ruffled his ears and thanked him for the dagger; it was exactly what I needed.

After that Balto barked and ran off back into the woods. I wondered then whom he belonged to but when I remembered the message Minerva had given me I shot up and started running toward the manor.

When I got inside Achilles was nowhere to be seen. Good! I didn't want him knowing what I was about to do. I ran down stairs into the basement and opened up the chest I had hidden my things inside. I got out my hoody and put it on, fully covering my face with the hood. Then I situated the bow back onto my back along with a full pack of arrows.

As soon as I was ready, dagger sheathed in my pocket and chest pushed back into it's hiding spot, I ran outside to the stables. This part I was nervous about. While I did grow up on a ranch surrounded by horses I had never ridden one before. In this case I was just going to have to be brave, suck it up, and get on.

Several of the horses were already saddled in the stables. I remembered Achilles talking about one horse in particular once though, a mustang named Shadow. It was the only all black horse in the stables. I remembered how he spoke of how fast she could run, and speed was key right now.

I found her quickly; she was in the first stall I looked in. Already saddled, I gently walked over to her. She didn't seem antsy or anything, she just stood there as if waiting for me to get on, I sighed a grateful breath at that.

One foot at a time I got into the stirrups and slung myself into the saddle. It seemed easy enough so far. Than I took the reins in hand and ushered her forward, when I did this she started walking straight into a gallop. Well, I needed her to go faster so I kicked her side a little bit. That worked, now she was running, and as long as I moved the reins where I wanted her to go that's where she'd run.

I picked up horse riding quickly, I was very thankful for that. And the next thing I knew we're heading towards Lexington, I only hoped I wasn't too late!

**-X-**

**End Note: **_This one has a bit more to it then the last one. You remember how I said it was just going to be training for a little while? Well yeah, I guess it isn't. If there is anything in particular you'd like to see in this Templar agent from the future please tell me. 'Cause as is I got nothing._

_If there are any certain pieces of the Revolutionary Timeline you'd like to see Connor and Kyle get involved in please tell me. And _SylphJr _if you could make a list of all the different bits of the Time Line you specifically wanted to see, that would help me greatly. ^_^_

_If any of you ever want to make a request don't be afraid to do so! I'm always happy to take 'em!_

_**R&R Please!**_


	3. Lexington, Concord, and Kyle?

**Author's Note: **_I got the research for this bit off of Wiki; a large majority of this chapter consists of actual things that happened in the battle of Lexington and Concord. I even had to use a bloody map so I knew which direction to come at this at! I'm changing a few things though, just really small things. It's like a three way mixture of actual fact, Assassin's Creed fact, and my brain. You'll see! ^_^_

_**P.S:**__ Sorry this took so long to post! T_T With Mid-Term Exams coming up, the holidays, and my usual hobbies it's taken me a while to finish. I even had to cut this into two pieces. But in the mean time I sure have heard a lot from you guys! And I really appreciate it! I love you guys and Merry Christmas and or any holidays you might be celebrating! Also I'd like to know if you guys would be interested in a Christmas One-shot of this, if so let me know!_

_**Special thanks to:**_

Portrait of a Scribe

Alpha Lima One

SylphJr

BloodyOrchid 

TheNurdyGurl

Maverick Hunter Phoenix

Spaarky

ShioriOokami

Cereza101

flamefoxvixen

GingerNinja26

Godskeybladewarrior

AdamantiumDevil

Silver Shadowbreeze

MixedAssassin7

121741e1

Pixelshadow

Corrosionpanda

Athalia97

_**ENJOY! With all my LOVE to you, Merry Christmas to you guys!**_

**-X-**

_**Revolutionary Tactics**_

**Chapter 3: **_Lexington, Concord… And Kyle?_

One would think that when you're sent back into the seventeen hundreds from modern day there would be culture shock involved at some point, that it would be hard to adjust. Well when that person who's been thrown back in time is used to roughing it in the woods with their dad for weeks on end, nothing but tents and sleeping bags, it's less culture shock more culture frustration.

'_I'll take a manor over a tent any day!'_

One would also think that riding a horse for the first time would be difficult, but when you've watched your step dad ride horses almost everyday of your life, and when you're riding a very well trained horse itself, it's much easier than you'd think. It does _however_ still hurt considerably, sitting on a hard leather saddle for an hour while the animal you're on is racing at full speed.

Achilles was right though; Shadow was indeed one _heck_ of a fast horse. So, now all I had to worry about was not getting lost. Originally I thought a lot of navigation would be in order, but there was one dirt road and wooden signs everywhere. As long as I watched the signs I stayed on track.

Lexington and Concord are only three hundred meters away from each other, being as both towns are located on Massachusetts' border. But the ride from Davenport to Medford was an hour long and several miles away. Medford is about five miles away from Boston; British reinforcements began marching at Cambridge and circled around Roxbury and Boston then started their assault at Menotomy. The rebels held their ground at Lexington, fled when out numbered, then strategically held the line at the North Bridge in Concord.

When coming from the direction of Davenport, Medford is the first place you would hit. It's only ten kilometers from Menotomy and was completely vacant of all life. I imagined the residents of the area had heard about the march of Redcoats coming their way and vacated the premises. Medford, however, was not on the British's marching path; it was just out of their range. So I was safe, _for now_.

Really, during the hour I had, while heading toward Medford, I was trying to mentally prepare myself for what was to come. I mean; I was walking into a war here! A real war, not a paint ball war or a laser tag war like what I was used to. There was going to be real corpses, blood, killers, guns, and the whole she-bang!

Not only that I had to find a killer amongst killers. How was I supposed to know what the Templar Agent was going to look like? Most likely it would be a man, as then he would have the home field advantage over me, this being an anti-feminist era and all. He could easily blend in then, and the Agent could be disguised as a rebel or a Redcoat for all I knew!

During the hour-long race against time I had plenty of things to think about, and now that I really do think about it, I'm terrified! How was I supposed to survive through this? Why did_ I_ have to save Connor? Why did Minerva choose _me_? I am not a hero; I'm barely a girl, let alone anything else! Minerva can shove it! I'm not doing this for her; I'm doing this for Connor!

'_Wait? What? I'm doing this for Connor?'_

I guess so, who else would I charge head first into danger for? Mind you this isn't a sudden devotion, more of a sentimental one. Connor is the one who's been training me for something like this since the get go after all. Connor was the one who trusted me. Connor was the one who taught me Mohican. Connor was the one that saved me on day one. Connor's the one that gave me a new place to stay. Connor's the one that stood up for me. Connor's the one who believed in me.

'_If you don't fight for a person like that than who do you fight for?'_

It was the final ten meters before Medford. My spine ached and I couldn't feel my butt anymore, even Shadow's movements were beginning to become sluggish after our race across the map. Medford was truly a ghost town; something about the presence of the place was so cold. Only a thin forest and small river separated Medford from Menotomy. I could already hear the screaming, gunfire, and fighting from across the way. The gunfire cracked through the silence of the forest, the screaming ripped through it like a sword slicing the air. It made my heart race and I wasn't even in the battle zone yet.

I wasn't ready for this; I closed my eyes as I took a deep breath of the last bit of fresh air I might ever breathe. I was really not ready for this. I was inches away from having a panic attack as Shadow galloped up onto the streets of Medford. The town was eerie, not a soul in sight. The brick streets were devoid of any sign of life, all of the houses and buildings boarded up. I was _so_ not ready for this. A shrill chill ran down my spine.

I had to go straight through Medford and over a small wooden bridge to get to Menotomy. As soon as I'd hit Menotomy I'd be surrounded by British forces. I found myself frozen at the thought, stilling the horse by reflex. I couldn't summon up the courage to continue, images of blood, severed bone, snapped spines, gunshot wounds, corpses, and death passing by my eyes. _I wasn't ready for this, I just wasn't ready!_

'_But I don't have a choice, do I?'_ I thought as a deep and heavy sigh passed from my lips. I found my sweaty palms gripping the reins tightly. Shadow whined and I kicked her to continue in a slow trot. _'If I don't do something now Connor might die. If Connor dies then Desmond is never born, and in the long run we're all screwed! It's more than that though, it's about me betraying Connor like that, it's about me not even trying to save the one person who has faith in me right now!' _I felt like Atlas at that moment, carrying the world upon my shoulders.

I gritted my teeth together, eyes shut tight in concentration, trying to summon what little courage I had, as Shadow hoofed it across the bridge. I could hear them now, all of those cries of pain and despair, I could smell and feel the tension of death rising, it was almost tangible. I had to open my eyes to see and when I did all I saw was red.

It was a massive sea of Redcoats; they covered the hills, marching in small groupings or squads. Their muskets were at the ready, bayonets sticking up in the air as they carried their rifles on their shoulders. I could hear drums and screams, gunfire and shouting. I had heard about it all and now I could see it. And let me tell you; reading about it is one thing, seeing it is very much something altogether different! A teacher or lecturer could never truly capture the feeling of the battlefield. You had to be there to truly understand it, _to truly know it_.

On the battlefield there is an insurmountable amount of tension, every soldier thinks their next second is their last. But among those cries and screams, hidden deep in the darkness, there is hope. Hope is what keeps them all fighting, not orders or duty, but hope that after it all they might see their families again. Hope that in the future they might all be free_._

If boys younger than me could believe in this hope, if men older than my grandfather weren't afraid to fight for it, then why should I be? Sure I'm not a soldier, I don't have a musket or a gun, but I could still fight. I could at least try! _'And that's what it all boils down to; trying. Because when tomorrow comes and dawn breaks, at least I could look Connor in the eye and say I tried.'_ I thought rather bitterly as Shadow made that last gallop onto the battlegrounds of Menotomy.

You know how they say that the sun was shining that day, during that battle fueled by morality and hope? Well, their wrong, it was raining that day. It was dark and dreadful, bitter and so very tension filled. The winds swept by the grass and the rain drenched the dirt and turned it to mud. This was a bitter place with only that one thread of golden hope keeping it all together, just waiting for destiny to cut it in half with a knife.

Blood soaked into the ground, three corpses strewn at Shadow's hooves. It was a family, a little girl and her mother and father, dead because they stood with the idea of freedom. Or maybe it was just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The horse stopped before crossing over them, and I felt something…_break_ inside of me.

I cupped a hand over my mouth, something inside of me shattering just a little bit at the sight. How could anyone do this? How could someone kill a little girl? How could people slaughter each other endlessly just because of a disagreement? Why was humanity so violent? As an Assassin I shouldn't fear the dead, but the old teachings of the Creed, back in Altair's day, said to respect life. How ironic that the Assassins themselves caused as much death as the Templars they fought.

All this, to me, was just insanity. It was greed in its purest form, the darkest parts of humanity out where everyone could see it. And I wanted no part of it, but I had no choice. Life or death, innocents lost or not, this fight was not mine to bear arms to, but it was about to be.

"The British are taking prisoners!"

"Run!"

"God help us!"

Suddenly a shot rang out, louder than life itself. In slow motion Shadow buckled underneath me. Then she reared up and slowly, slower than I thought possible, I watched as helplessly I was thrown from the saddle of the horse. My back hit the cold, wet, and blood soaked ground. I would have screamed had my lungs not been frozen in terror. My body was numb and I found myself unmovable as I watched Shadow run off, across the bridge, back towards Medford.

The cold rain hit me like sharp crystals, it stung my face, blurred my vision. It felt like time itself had stopped. I couldn't breath, I couldn't feel my heartbeat, and my legs were completely numb. It only got worse as I lightly turned my head, cheek touching mud, to see the British only getting closer.

If I was captured I'd be killed just like all the others, Connor would be a sitting duck, and it would be all my fault that the world burned in the end. All because I was too scared to stand up!

"_Move!"_

Suddenly my heart started beating again, rapidly, from where time had slowed; it was now so fast I couldn't keep up with what was going on. The world was a blur of gunshots, rain drops, and mud. I heard men yell out in pain, I saw them fall all around me, yet I was untouched.

I could feel someone carrying me, holding me up as my arm was slung over his shoulder. My hood hid my face, shrouded my sight. I could only make out the man's words as he yelled. Well, I could kind of make them out; they were somewhat of just a roar in my ear. Everything was too much of a blur, sound and sight slurring together.

"You okay son?" I blink and there is a man standing over me. His eyes are a deep blue, peering into me with a concerned gaze. His hair was dark but hidden underneath a soldier's hat. He had the blue uniform of a rebel and a rifle slung over his back. "That horse bucked you off, if you hadn't noticed. You're lucky I grabbed 'ya, or you'd been completely swarmed by Red Devils." His southern accent is thick, his facial features appealing, and his arms strong.

I look around, confused, still in shock. My body was trembling, my vision still blurry, everything slightly warped around me. I could feel that I was sitting, the man having dragged me away from the direct line of fire. I felt so light headed, I felt like I was going to… going to…

My head, by reflex, went over my shoulder, and suddenly my stomach couldn't hold it back any longer, I finally puicked up my guts all over the drenched ground. After there was nothing left to gag on I started to dry heave. The man beside me started to rub my back, trying to help me pull myself back up from where I was laying on my elbows.

"Good God son, your damn green aren't 'ya? Never seen a soldier go frozen just to throw it all up a second later. You might want to stay out'a this one." The man calmly informed me, yelling over the noise of battle, and gently helped me to my feet. "Might sorry about your horse, but I guess you'll be walk'n home." He patted my shoulder and was starting to turn me around; but I stopped him before I began to face Medford again.

I grabbed his arm and took many deep uneven breaths. I shook my head hurriedly, holding his arm tightly. "I…. I can't." I said and swallowed down the urge to dry heave again. My body was shaking so badly, it had been the whole time, which _really_ I was surprised I was still standing at all. My stomach felt like there was a huge gaping hole in it, and my head felt like it was about to fall off my neck.

"You can't what son?" The man asked, grabbing my shoulder to steady me. I was so glad then that my clever, and unintentional, disguise was working. The man probably wouldn't have spared me a glance had he thought I was a woman, and right now he was the only thing keeping me up, _literally_.

"Can't…. I can't-…." I took another deep breath. "Abandon…. _him_." I was finally able to croak out. I looked up at the man to see him nodding, sympathy in his eyes. I wondered then why he hadn't questioned my hood, why he wasn't curious about my strange clothes, or my accent. Maybe the battlefield really did take away the line, the invisible line that divided all. Right now he was probably only thinking about one thing; fighting the British, just like every rebel here he had the mind of a soldier.

"I got 'ya." He nodded, a grin on his face. "No abandoning a brother." _'Oh he had no idea!'_ "I understand." The man then slung my other arm over his shoulder again, and he helped me walk a little farther. Then his hand went into a pocket on the inside of his coat; he pulled out a canteen. "Here, this ought 'a put some strength back into your legs." He opened the canteen with his free hand and put it to my lips.

So, what do you think was in that canteen? I can assure you it was not water! I nearly choked when I tasted it. I drank it anyway though, I was too thirsty not to. It burned all the way down my throat and made me feel even lighter headed. I got about three gulps of it before the canteen was put away again. I coughed and the man patted my back, laughing at my discomfort.

"What…. what was that?" I shouted exasperatedly. There was a bit of a wobble to my step now. The man helped me straighten up and let go of my shoulder. The trembling was gone now, my stomach quieted, and I felt a bit out of my mind. But at least I could stand on my own two feet again.

"My own home remedy for green, _boy_!" The man hollered, southern accent so thick I was worried he was going to call me an _idjit_. He was grinning now though, a full on grin that made me worry that he might be a little _insane_. He pats my shoulder vigorously and then pulls the rifle from his back over his shoulder and into his hands. "You know how to use that bow?" The man motions towards the flat bow secured to my back.

I nod. "Uh-" _Deep breath_. "-huh." I'm still stumbling a bit over my tongue, but every second that passes I begin to feel better. I pull the bow from my back and I noticed then that the feather tips of my arrows are covered in mud. I'd have to knock the mud off of each one before I could use them. So instead I put the bow back over my back for later and pulled out the dagger from in my pocket. I flip it in my hand and catch the handle with my palm. My dad had taught me how to wield a knife a long time ago, I only hoped I could remember his lessons.

"Good." The man then pulls out a short bayonet from his other coat pocket. He sets the rifle butt down on the ground and screws the bayonet on the front of the musket. "'Gonna need some range on these bastards. The boys in Lexington are just a cover for the firepower we got set up in Concord at North Bridge. If we can make it that far without get'n ripped open we'll be fine." When the bayonet is completely screwed on the man looks back up at me and holds the rifle like a sword. "We got brothers hidden along the skirts of Menotomy. If we can meet up with them, well that'd be even better." He explains while pointing out the direction the hidden rebel troops should be in.

My grip tightens on the dagger. My legs may have been standing strong but my resolve was crumbling slowly. Let me paint you a picture to explain why. All along where the hidden rebel troops should be, _well_, to get across to Menotomy we'd have to cut right through a garrison of British troops. Each one of those soldiers were armed and ready to fire, or perhaps ready to shish kebab me again. I really didn't want to relive that experience to it's fullest.

When the man noticed my hesitation he patted me roughly on the back. I nearly jumped out of my skin when he did that. "Name's Isaac." He stated, smiling, trying to encourage me into some _well_ courage.

I smiled back with shaky lips. "Kyle."

"Well Kyle, better now than never." Isaac said, a gleam in his eyes. His smile, his bravado, this man was fighting for something and _hard_. He wasn't afraid of death, if this suicide mission was any consolation. "Lets go kill us some British panty waists!"

'_Wait? What? Panty waists?'_

Before I could blink we were running and, against my better judgment, I was staying with Isaac all the way. He ran right through the garrison of soldiers as if it was just a crowd of people. When a Redcoat would get in his way he'd just run them through with his bayonet. Me, however, I was just staying as close as I could to the guy, trying to breathe evenly and not have a panic attack. When movement blurred into action, adrenaline making everything slur together, I found myself grabbing a musket from a confused British soldier, and hitting him over the head with the butt of his own rifle. Why did I do that you ask, well I have no idea!

The dagger was back in my pocket, and the rifle was now my memento to keep. I had no idea what I was doing _at all_, logical sense out the window, running off of instinct alone, I was just going with the flow. Between me and Isaac, soldier after soldier was going down. Half of them were falling unconscious; the others were stabbed in the lung. We only had the upper hand because of the element of surprise and confusion. The Redcoat soldiers weren't expecting to get hit in the side by two lone rangers; they didn't even have time to load their muskets before they actually saw us. Everything was going so fast I didn't even notice all of the dying soldiers I was jumping over, or at least, I was pretending not to notice.

"Stick with me kid, and you'll get places!" Was yelled over Isaac's shoulder at me rather snarkily, alerting all of the Redcoats around us. I gritted my teeth and started running faster, rain and wind pushing against me. Now was the moment those laps were really coming in handy.

"Hopefully to the other side!" I shout back, not being able to control my _own_ snarky side any longer. Isaac's strange grin seemed to be contagious, as now while I was knocking Redcoats out with the back of my rifle, I was smiling.

_-Zoom-_

A bullet passed by my face, scratching the side of my hand as it went. It left something akin to a paper cut behind, my knees got shaky as I looked back to see a firing squad lining up behind us. Looks like the Redcoats had finally caught on about what was up.

"Oh! Now he-" I interrupted Isaac before he could finish.

"_Get down!"_ I shouted and jumped forward, pushing Isaac down with me. Both of us fell to the ground with an audible _'oof!'_. We both ended up face first in a mud puddle, half of me splayed on top of Isaac. Just as we hit the ground bullets flew passed us, missing us by a hair's inch.

Isaac recuperated first, pulling me up by the collar of my shirt. "Come on boy! No time to rest!" He pulled me to my feet and pushed me forward, I nearly stumbled but he caught me by my arm and started dragging me along. We ran two more feet before ducking behind a building that seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. More bullets hit the building, the last of the British fire missing us.

I was taking the deepest breaths of my life. I gripped the rifle in my hands tightly and just stood there, covered in mud, in the rain, sweating. As I tried to steady my heartbeat, just getting over the rush of my life, Isaac started laughing. When I say Isaac started laughing I mean he was laughing so hard I thought he was going to keel over and die! He just stood there, trying to breath through his hiccups of laughter. I looked over at him like he was completely mad. I mean, _level with me here_, who laughs like that after nearly get ripped to bits by gunfire?

It was minutes later that he finally stopped and wiped the tears from his eyes. He just looked up at me and grinned. Then, suddenly Isaac grabbed my shoulder gently and shook me as if he thought I was losing it! "Good job green-boy! Looks like we made it to the other side after all!" He cheered, that grin of his just forever plastered on his face.

I smiled back reluctantly, still looking at him as if he was a ticking time bomb, and nodded. "I guess so."

Isaac then stood up straight, slung his rifle back over his shoulder, and took a deep breath. "Alright, lets go find that fat old bastard Heath!" He announced and started walking into the mass of buildings. I just stood there and stared at him. He looked over his shoulder, sensing I wasn't behind him, and motioned me to follow. "Come on!" He called.

I had to shake myself, trying to get over what had just happened. Who would have thought that'd I'd make it this far? I mean; I know we haven't even gotten to Lexington yet, but hey I survived the preliminaries! And really that was a miracle in itself. I was lucky that Isaac had found me, so very lucky. I watched Isaac's retreating form and smiled; after this was over I _seriously_ owed him a drink.

"Hey! Wait up!"

**-X-**

Menotomy is a small town located beyond a hill and a large expanse of valley. In modern era you'd know Menotomy better as Arlington. The British reinforcements came right through the valley and over the hill but didn't touch the town. So some rebel troops, back up units for the squads located in Concord, hid behind some of the buildings. As dumb as that sounds it seemed to have worked, the British didn't suspect a thing, not even after our rampage!

The rebel troops were waiting for a signal. They were waiting for a messenger to tell them of the fall of Lexington. When that happened they'd make their way around Lexington and directly to the North Bridge and Concord, to give back up to the barricade located down there. It was the hidden ace up their shirtsleeve.

"Heath!" Isaac called to, as he had said, an old fat guy on a horse. Heath, from what I could see, was surrounded by other rebel troops. I'd say this group was the size of a garrison. So, yeah, that's a good bit of people. The Minutemen must have been over a few handfuls of people, maybe more.

Isaac, him being covered in blood and scratches, neither of us having made it out of the fray without losing at least little bit of blood, walked up to Heath and saluted him.

"Captain Davis, where have you been?" Heath sounded snobby, more of a proper English accent on his tongue. He looked over at me and sneered but only for a moment, before his gaze went right back to Isaac. Just from that one glance he deemed me unimportant and unworthy of his attention, him having looked down his big fat nose at me.

I wasn't paying attention to Major General snob though. I was more of very surprised to hear that the guy I just nearly committed suicide with was _The Captain Isaac Davis!_ If you know your history you'd know that this guy was pretty big during the Revolutionary War, The Battle of Lexington and Concord especially. But I'm…. I…. I kind of don't remember why he was famous. It seems to have slipped my mind. _How odd._

"Major General." Isaac addressed Heath very seriously then began to grin again, but this time there was an angry gleam in his eyes. "Well some how I ended up back at Medford, picking up the tracks your fat ass left. Cleaned that up then found this young man about to have his bones picked clean by Devils, _sir_." Isaac addressed the man as if he was trash, Heath had done the same, and something told me these two didn't get along.

Heath looked undisturbed, as if he was used to insults being slung at him from Isaac. He instead turned his fat face to look at me, he analyzed me again and I shivered under such intense scrutiny. Heath looked down his nose at me then frowned. "Those are strange garments you're wearing, _young man_. Why would you intentionally hide your face? Are you a spy?" As soon as the word spy flew from Heath's mouth the massive amount of soldiers around him turned to me and glared.

I gulped and held my arms up in surrender. I hate to have come all this way just to be killed by the side I was actually on! _'Well that didn't last long.'_ I thought irritably.

Isaac then suddenly stepped between me and Heath, his arms crossed over his chest, that angry gleam burning brighter in his gaze. "Now wait just one damn minute!" He yelled, glaring very pointedly at Major General Heath. "Why in the _Hell_ would a British spy help a rebel Captain cross a stream of their own soldiers? He saved my hid Heath! Your dogs even try and touch him and there'll be a rifle up your fat ass!" Isaac yelled confidently, standing up for me even though he barely knew who I was.

'_But why?'_ I found myself warmed by his protective stance with me but I was also very confused. Sure we were even now, he saved my life and I saved his, but I could still be anybody! Bigger question; would he still care if he knew I was a girl?

Heath glared down at Isaac with as much venom as a snake. The soldiers now looked confused, Heath had trained half of the garrison, Isaac had trained the other half, and they were divided in their trust and loyalty. Isaac had been a soldier in the French and Indian war; he was a soldier long before Heath was.

But when the Continental Army had wanted to promote Isaac he had declined stating that he was a soldier and would do better on the battlefield then barking out orders. So, because of Isaac's decline the job was given to Heath. The two still ended up training their own men but Isaac even made his troop's muskets himself, him being a gunsmith and all. Point is, Isaac didn't think Heath deserved the position, but to rub it in his face more Heath treated Isaac like dirt. So explains the bad blood.

"If he is not a spy then let him prove it!" Heath argued. "Let us see your face!" The fat man demanded as he finally turned his glare to me again, every soldier that was gazing at me looked as if they agreed with Heath's demands. Isaac even looked over his shoulder with a sigh and nodded.

My gut rolled with tension, my stomach flip-flopped. I decided that if I lived through this reveal that I would take another long chug from Isaac's canteen. I took one long breath and dragged it out, as there were at least fifty eyes on me. I'd hate to admit that I have stage fright, but that didn't really matter anymore now did it? Slowly, as slowly as my shaky hands could, I removed the hood from my head. When there was no longer a shadow over my eyes I looked up. There were gasps among the crowd, my feminine features being too blatant for anyone to not think I was a woman.

But I didn't care about what they thought; I was looking right at Isaac instead. He had turned to me and just been watching as I had pulled the hood from my head. This was the moment I was expecting him to shun me; this was the exact second I was expecting him to frown and yell and shoot me. He didn't though, he just had that same old grin on his face again, that grin that was so freaking contagious.

"Well I'll be damn!" Isaac smiled, taking his hat off to put it over his heart. There was something else in his eyes now, something unrecognizable. "You sure do look like my little Lucy!" He shouted happily a light tone in his voice it was almost gentle sounding.

"Lucy?" I asked, tilting my head in question. The two of us seemed to be completely ignoring the astonished looks around us, almost like they didn't even matter.

"My youngest!" He exclaims. "I got three little girls wait'in for me at home. Lucy's only ten years old, but she's got the greenest little eyes. You look a lot more like her than I thought you would!" Isaac says this as if he wasn't surprised to see I was a girl at all, as if he had known all along but pretended not to for my sake.

'_So much for clever unintentional disguise.'_ I thought, rolling my eyes with a smile. I was just glad that the one person's opinion that I actually cared about hadn't shunned me just because of my gender.

Heath, however, looked flabbergasted. His cheeks were puffed out, his eyes fiery, his face a deep red. He basically exploded. "A-a … _girl! _How dare you! How dare you! I'll-" Isaac cut him off, his head spinning around to pin Heath with another dark glower.

"You'll what Heath? Condemn someone for help'n just cause they're a woman!" Isaac shook his head, controlling the anger that wanted to boil over in him. There was disgust in his eyes when he looked back at Heath. The other soldiers dared not say a word. "If Parker can vouch for an Indian boy than I can vouch for a woman!" He stated strongly, and no one seemed to want to argue with him, as there was a dead silence among the masses. "And that's exactly what I'm gonna do!" He added with a nod, more then confident in his decision.

It seemed like now I owed Isaac two drinks. Because of Isaac's words not a soul said a thing about my gender, matter of fact some of the other soldiers came to thank me for saving their Captain. It seemed Isaac was well thought of, loved, and respected among his men. I completely understood why.

**-X-**

Talking to soldiers who had enlightened minds even in this era was very interesting. Apparently Isaac wasn't very strict about gender regulations. There was a long story to explain why but the gest of it was that his wife had always been a tomboy and had showed Isaac just how strong a woman could be. Ever since then he never doubted the strength of any one individual person, no matter what. He had taught this understanding quality to his soldiers as well, it was the beginning of a truly free America.

So yes, I got to converse with soldiers who didn't care I was a woman. I kept saying girl but since I was eighteen I was technically a woman in their eyes, actually I would be classified as an old maid. _But let's not go there._

Because of my conversing, time passed by quickly. Before I knew it the message of Lexington's fall had been delivered and the garrison was moving out. Isaac found me as I walked with the rebels, he suddenly pulled me out of the grouping and we began walking alongside Heath's horse. I didn't question why, I was just happy to be following him again. How strange that a soldier's feelings of loyalty were already instilled in me.

"I need 'ya to come with me. I gotta bet I want 'ta settle and I could use your bow." Isaac pointed at the flat bow on my back, and during while I had been conversing with the others I'd cleaned the mud from my arrows. I had had a feeling I'd be using them some time soon, looks like I was right.

I nodded but felt a bit on edge. Why would Isaac need my help? What bet was he talking about? I didn't know but something told me not to ask. "Alright." I agreed and just continued to follow Isaac like a puppy. I really didn't know where else to go, and it seems the Templar Agent from the future had temporarily left my mind.

The troops with Heath were heading toward Concord, me and Isaac _however_ split off and started heading back to Lexington. I glared at the back of Isaac's head as I followed him. What was Isaac doing? Why were we heading back towards British marching grounds again? Was he insane?

It was still raining and by now I was completely drenched, not to mention freezing. I just prayed I wouldn't start sneezing any time soon; sneezing might just be the death of me. So, Isaac and I were making our way to the road leading to Concord just a little passed Lexington. Each small town we passed was completely empty, dead bodies strewn everywhere, I nearly gagged from the smell and sight several times over. That dark foreboding tension was back, but this time I had a feeling it wasn't going away.

"Isaac?" I called, holding the rifle with one hand and stretching my other out to touch Isaac's shoulder. He grabbed my hand before it touched him and turned to me suddenly. I tensed up for a second until I realized he was just shushing me. I let out a sigh as he signaled me to move into some bushes. I walked over to where he was pointing and settled. Isaac however took another moment to look at our surroundings before following me.

But then _swiftly_ Isaac came to sit beside me in what was like bramble bushes. I gritted my teeth as we tried to hide ourselves from what looked like some camped out Redcoats. They were on the road, making sure no one passed their makeshift roadblock. There were at least twenty of them, protecting what looked like cases or chests that sat in the middle of their little soldier made circle.

"Hey," Isaac shook my shoulder as I stared at the Regulars. I had to wet my tongue my mouth was so dry from the tension. I looked over at him and he gave me another one of his award winning confident grins. "You climb trees?" He asked and I nodded. "Good." Isaac then pointed out some tree branches that hung above us. "See if you can't get up there. Get a bird's eye view of the place, you'll need it." Isaac explains, but only vaguely. I looked at him like he's crazy and all I get in return is a Cheshire grin of reassurance from him.

I shake my head with a sigh but find myself sneaking out of the bushes anyway. Oddly, I felt like some kind of Robin Hood, having to sneak around and climb up trees with my bow and arrows. Sure I had a gun but I left that with Isaac, I couldn't really sneak around with a big rifle in my arms now could I?

The tree I climbed up was a big strong oak, only a foot away from the brambles. I shimmied up it like the Indian that taught me how, though I had to balance on the balls of my feet and keep my hands out in front of me. I only climbed about three feet up but even then I was worried I was going to fall. The branches were slippery from the rain and my leather boots didn't have much grip on them. So I used my hands and my feet to secure my weight. When I got to the point where I did indeed have a bird's eye view of the British soldiers I stopped.

I settled myself down and made sure I wouldn't fall. Bow in hand, arrow at the ready, I watched as Isaac made his way into the small encampment. He stayed low as he snuck around the Redcoats using the forestry as cover. He made sure that no one could see him but when he ran out of bushes to hide behind I took the initiative.

Shooting an arrow at a person is just like shooting one at a deer, as long as your aim is true and steady the arrow will hit it's mark every time. However, I didn't like the idea of killing them, none of the soldiers stationed here were any older than me, they didn't deserve to die. So I shot them all in the knee. '_Can someone say Skyrim reference?'_

"What the bloody _Hell?"_

"My knee!"

"We're being attacked by Indians!"

"Bullocks!"

"_Ahhhhh!"_

Hearing extremely British guys yell out in pain is actually pretty funny, seeing a sharp arrowhead go through flesh _however_ is not! Some of them stumbled, some tripped, a few all out just went rigged and fell over in pain. I think one of them even started crying! I felt so cool yet kinda cruel. I mean; now they'll never be able to go on adventures again! _'Ha-ha, Skyrim humor.' _Oddly,I found myself smiling manically.

Even Isaac ended up laughing his way to one of the chests after seeing ten British soldiers fall over in pain. Looks like I wasn't the only one that thought it was funny. I rolled my eyes at the suicidal man though, he'd never learn. I really did question where he learned how to sneak. Didn't anyone tell him that stealth requires silence?

When Isaac was actually able to lock pick his way into the chest, which I didn't even know he could lock pick, he pulled something out of it and strapped it around his waist. I couldn't get a clear view of what it was from here, but I had this feeling…

"Kyle!" Isaac suddenly shouted my name from across the road, completely shattering my thought. I closed my eyes and let out an exasperated sigh when he alerted the rest of the Regulars to both of our positions. "I've got a horse! _Well_, I've stolen a horse! Come on!" He added as he threw himself over and onto the saddle of a black horse, matter of fact that horse looked _very_ familiar.

"Shadow!" I yell whispered, now very frustrated to see the horse turned traitor here at a Redcoat encampment. _'Well at least now I can take her back to Achilles now.'_ I thought as I jumped down from the branch, bow on my back, I ran toward Isaac. Musket fire could be heard, the other ten Redcoats alerted to our presence, and suddenly I was skimmed in the arm by another bullet. I hissed out in pain, but I had gotten lucky this time. This time the skim was literally as small as a paper cut. Out of fear I picked up my pace though. There was no way I was dying now, not after everything!

"Come on!" Isaac yells, holding out his hand to me as he sees me getting closer. When I'm finally close enough I grab his arm and he pulls me up into the saddle. Isaac kicks Shadow into a full-fledged run as soon as I'm on, and I have to be quick to situate myself behind him.

There's shouting and shooting going on behind us as we gallop away from the roadblock. Shadow is running at her full speed and for the second time that day I feel like I'm going to fall off of her. Isaac must have sensed this as he lets go of the reins to grab my shoulder and help steady me. I nod my head in thanks and yet again I'm greeted solely by his grin. I smile at that and suddenly we both begin to laugh hysterically, I start to laugh first _actually_ but Isaac is quick to follow suit.

Had you been a rebel scout watching the eastern side of Concord that day. Then you would have seen a man and girl, riding a horse, the both of them covered in mud, scratches, and bruises, laughing hysterically like madmen. And if you had been that scout you would have given an incredulous look at the two and pretended it was just your imagination.

**-X-**

In the long run the two of us actually made it to Concord, we even made it before the British garrisons did. Time works oddly like that I guess. I didn't end up asking about what it was Isaac had stolen from the chest, being as now I could see it. While I was practically hugging Isaac from behind; so to steady myself, Shadow going way faster than I remember her being able to go, I saw the holsters. Around Isaac's waist were two twin holsters, in those holsters were two twin specially made muskets. Something told me they used to be Pitcairn's, emphasis on '_used to be'_.

The two of us rode all the way around Concord then came up from the east, the outskirts of the town. From the dirt path we road up we could see the rebel barricade at the bridge, James Barrett, William Dawes, and Connor.

'_Wait! Connor!'_ Something finally comes to the front of my mind, seeing Connor reminds me that I had forgotten something very important. My eyes go wide when it finally hits me like a ton of bricks. '_The Templar Agent! Holy crap how could I forget about that?'_ I felt like smacking myself across the head, but instead I buried my face in Isaac's back. He smells lightly of musk and suddenly I'm very envious of Misses Davis.

Due to all of the running, near escapes, suicide missions, smells, corpses, blood, gunshots, wounds, and arguing I had completely forgotten the reason why I was here! _Minerva_, Minerva had sent me a vision saying there was a Templar Agent from the future here, and that his target is Connor and me. The whole point I had jumped into this war, nearly pissed myself several times, gotten drunk, thrown off a horse, and been shot at was to save Connor from something he wouldn't see coming!

'_Oh, I feel very stupid right now.' _

"Captain!" I heard James Barrett call over the rain. It sounded muffled to me as I was still hiding behind Isaac; being as I knew as soon as Connor saw me there would be a tomahawk in my skull, this time for sure! I could feel us riding up to them, the three standing around, waiting.

"James! Good to see you're still alive!" Isaac shouted; I could hear a light and happy tone in his voice, his body going lax. He greeted James very differently than Heath. I was glad there was at least one higher up Isaac could get along with.

"To you as well Isaac." A similar tone was echoed back in Barrett's voice.

The two of us rode up to the three of them until we were just alongside them. Then Isaac carefully slid down from the saddle; reluctantly I had to let go of him so he could get down. When Isaac was on his feet, eye-to-eye with Barrett they saluted each other with grins on their faces.

"So, where are we at?" Isaac asked James, looking to and from Dawes, Barrett, and Connor. He held his hands behind his back, schooling his usual child like expression, ready to play soldier again.

Barrett looks up at me before addressing Isaac. "First, who is this? Heath tells me your vouching for a woman but…" James looks to Isaac for confirmation and Isaac's grin returns again.

"Ah!" I yelped as I fell down from the saddle suddenly, tripping over the stirrups, ending up on my back in front of three of the Revolutionary War's most important participants. Mud squelched around me, I furrowed my brows as I realized I had just fallen into a mud puddle, my hair getting completely ruined, and my hood down away from my head. I looked up at the four, upside down and smiled embarrassedly. _'Nice going genius, smooth move!'_

"Kyle!"

"Kyle?"

Isaac swiftly helped me up and swatted some of the mud off of me. After he does this he turns to Connor, who also called my name. He looks at him questioningly and then looks back at me again. I shrug and try not to look him in the eyes.

"So, you two know each other?" Barrett asks, also looking from me to Connor. His eyes are narrowed and he's tensed up. He only just barely trusted Connor before, now I might have screwed our chances of not getting shot, _again_.

"Yes, she is my apprentice." Connor states bluntly and glares at me, suspicious of why I was there. I felt like face palming myself; even I knew that was a bad thing to say!

Isaac looks surprised. He's got a scrunched and questioning look on his face, as if he's trying to figure out what Connor means by apprentice. Then suddenly his eyebrows shoot up and his mouth is making an _'O'_ shape, as if he just realized something. He looks over at me and grins, _as usual_. I raised a brow at him and he points to Connor whispering: "This must be the brother you couldn't abandon."

I feel blood rush to my face. I nod my head to him and try to pull my hood back over my head, or I would have tried could I have even moved. At the moment three very powerful very vicious men were glaring at me suspiciously, I was frozen in terror at this point.

"Well then!" Isaac shouts cheerfully, slicing through the lightning like tension with his voice. Everyone turns to him, and I scoot closer to him stealth fully, hoping if anyone lunged for me that Isaac might be able to stop them. Isaac claps his hands together, making sure he had everyone's attention, and continues. "As I said, where are we James?" He asks, his eyes squarely on Barrett.

That question seems to snap everyone out of some strange frenzy of aggravation and confusion that had swept over them. James went _'ahem'_ to clear his throat and straightened himself out, as did the rest of the gang. Some how Isaac had cast some sort of spell that made everyone forget about my presence as he and Barrett began to talk business again. For the next ten minutes no one even looked at me, they were solely focused on war strategy. I was very thankful for that.

**-X-**

"Sir!"

It's what feels like moments later when a rebel soldier calls out to Barrett. The conversation between him and Isaac comes to a stop as everyone turns to the bridge. I gap like a fish at what I see. It looked like hundreds upon hundreds of Regulars were marching straight for us, not but a few feet away.

"MAN THE BARRICADES!" Barrett bellows over the rest of the shouting.

Connor taps me on the shoulder, sneaking up on me like a ninja; I tremble as he whispers in my ear. "Survive and we will talk." The words are growled and I can tell that he is _very_ upset with me, but Connor doesn't have time to discipline me right now, and he was too busy listening in on battle strategy earlier to either. Actually, the fact that he thinks I might not survive this is what makes my stomach churn.

'_Although he does have a point.'_

I shake my head at the thought and watch as Connor gets in the saddle of his horse; Yakohsa:tens. The horse whines and he pulls on the reins, turning her towards the bridge. Connor's about to take off but Barrett stops him abruptly.

"No." Barrett grabs onto the reins of Yakohsa:tens and speaks hurriedly to Connor, desperation in his eyes. "Ensure my men hold those positions! If the Red Devils break through, we're finished!" He commands, loosening his grip on the horse.

"What would you have me do?" Connor asks, looking the other man eye-to-eye, waiting for direction.

"Listen carefully." Barrett insists. "The Redcoats will form firing lines. Order the men to shoot just before the line is ready. Too soon and they'll miss their targets. Too late and the enemy will open fire first." He explains; pointing out the areas near the bridge he was talking about as he spoke.

"Understood." Connor nods in understanding as he readies his horse. He then begins to ride off and I feel as if I'm getting left behind.

"And if any of those bastards make it through engage them. You must keep my men alive!" Barrett yells as Connor rides off, all I can do is watch and listen as everything begins.

**-X-**

War isn't exactly easy. Soldiers have a lot to bear when engaging an enemy. The Minutemen were the most courageous I had ever seen. A bunch of farmers with stolen guns fending off an army, the feat was a memorable one, and each of these men would be forever honored in American history. In the mean time I was hiding behind a tree, my rifle most likely left in a bush back at the roadblock.

From where I was I watched Connor and Isaac fight at the bridge. I tried to stay out of sight and out of the line of fire. Bullets were flying everywhere; men were dying with gasps and pained yelps, even with screaming echoes. I could smell the blood, gunpowder, and dirt and I desperately tried to close my eyes and go to my happy place.

I found myself backed against a tree slightly rocking, the rain pouring down onto me. There was a knot in my stomach the size of a bowling ball, my palms were sweaty, and my hands were playing with the hem of my hoody. I was just trying to imagine I wasn't there, that I was back at home, in my game room, watching a very loud war movie with my brother.

"KYLE!" I heard Isaac shout but had no time to open my eyes, me having had my lids tightly shut, before a considerably strong force knocks me over and onto the muddy ground. The air rushes from my lungs and when my eyes open widely in shock the first thing I see is a bullet embedded in the tree trunk right where I had been standing.

The _next_ thing I see is Isaac hunkered over me, trying to smile. Another gunshot rips through the air, this one sounds different from musket fire, it's louder and stronger sounding. Isaac spasms but stays where he is, I can't see anything past Isaac and his smile but when I start to hear drops and feel something warm and liquid land on me I look down at Isaac's stomach. _'OH MY GOD!'_

"Isaac!" Now I'm shouting, trying to move out from under Isaac, but he's still stronger then me, and is keeping me pinned underneath him. When he sees the look on my face, which I imagined to look like panic and concern, he smiles but this time there is blood on his teeth. "I-I-…._ Isaac_…_no_!" I stutter out as my vision begins to get blurry, tears pricking the edges of my gaze.

"It's…" He coughs and his body wretches forward, putting our faces closer together. "N-n-noth'in." He states, I try to roll out from underneath him but I can't, I can _however_ feel his arms weakening. When I look back up at him that smile that's always been on his face is gone and there are tears in his eyes. "You-…." He takes a deep shuddering breath. "You're a g-good woman…. Kyle." There's something different in his eyes now, a glimmer of something deeper. "And I-I," He swallows but blood still dribbles down his chin. "And I know you'll survive."

I can't hold back the tears now, through everything Isaac had been there for me today. It felt like I had meant him years ago instead of hours, it felt like we were old friends and that we had gone on mission after mission together. Today had been the longest day of my life and the most important. Isaac had gone out of his way to save me even when he knew I was a woman, he had stood up for me, protected me, and I could only wonder why. _'Because he's a good man.'_ And really it was just that simple.

Now Isaac was dying because he had bit the bullet for me again. I remembered then, of all the moments, what I had read about Captain Isaac Davis so long ago; that he died today and that there would be a monument created in his memory. It would stand here in his honor and tower proudly over Concord. Yet, even though I knew it was a part of history I didn't want Isaac to die. The worst part was that this great man, the first truly understanding man in America, was and dying and it was all my fault!

My tears were falling in streams now, no rain hitting my face. I felt like someone had gently touched my heart then ripped it out and shred it to pieces. I couldn't look Isaac in the eye, his blue stare even brighter now. I tried to wiggle away, not being able to take the intensity of his look, but I didn't have the strength. When a dirty calloused hand started wiping the tears from my face though something tugged on my heartstrings. It felt like I was a puppet all of a sudden, not being able to control my own movements.

Isaac's lips were actually soft, softer then I thought they would be. He had a light stubble and it tickled my skin as I moved my lips against his. He seemed surprised at first, stiff and unmoving, but it was only for a moment. That eternal grin came back to his face and I could feel his lips twitching up. When he began to kiss back it was deep, understanding, and gentle.

When we parted, the taste of blood in my mouth, the first thing Isaac says is: "I- I love my… my wife." It was a statement but not a refusal of my kiss, just a simple statement that meant nothing but what he said.

I nodded, shivering and trembling. "I know." I replied just as simply, going back in for another kiss. It doesn't last as long this time as Isaac falls over, his limbs finally going numb. I look into his eyes and that sapphire blue has dulled, the glimmer gone. The tears fall faster and I stay at Isaac's side as he tries to tell me something, gripping the holsters on his waist.

"G-give th-these t-to that ba-bastard Putnam. T-tell him…. _**I win**_." As soon as the last words leave Isaac's mouth his eyes go completely dull, his hands that I've been holding go lax, and his head lays in the mud, that smile on his face even in death.

I bite my lip as it trembles, tears still falling from my eyes. There's still a war going on behind me but I don't notice it, all I feel is broken. Suddenly I feel as if I've been left to be completely alone again. It's not the first time I've felt this pain but it feels so much worse then the last time.

Isaac shouldn't have trusted me so much, Isaac shouldn't have protected me, Isaac shouldn't have-

"So, you done yet?"

My head wipes up and it hurts my neck I move so fast. My vision is still blurry but I can still make out the man standing in front of me, and the first thing I notice is the Abstergo symbol on the pistol he's holding. He's wearing a Regular's uniform but the silver streaks in his hair and the color of his eyes don't fit. His gun looks like something out of science fiction novel, yet a normal clip of bullets showed from it's reloading end.

"No reason in mourning him. He was going to die anyway." He twirled the gun in his hand, a sadistic smile on his face. "I just helped it along."

That's when it clicks, the sound of normal gunfire, the way the wound was, the bullet in the tree, it was _him_ that shot Isaac, _he_ killed him!

I have never felt such blind fury grip me so tightly and so quickly before in my life. I clenched my fists to the point where my palms began to bleed, I growled deep in the back of my throat and felt my lip turning up into a snarl, my sharp K-nines showing.

"You!" My tone was deep, voice laced with venom and absolute hatred. "You shot him!" I pointed and stood, my muscles tense, shoulders up, chest puffed out. "YOU KILLED ISAAC!" I couldn't keep the volume of my voice under control, my blood literally boiling at this point, and yet my heart was a little lighter. I had someone to blame for Isaac's death now, no more self-loathing, just uncensored fury. "YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" _Speaking of uncensored._

The Agent jumped back as I lunged for him, dagger out in the blink of an eye. He was fast but I was furious. Again and again and again I lunged, suddenly my energy was boundless, adrenaline pumping through my veins like pressurized air through pipes. When finally I realized there was no point in lunging again I just threw the dagger like a throwing knife. It landed squarely in his stomach and he howled out in pain but only stumbled.

Now The Agent was glaring at _me_ in anger. He withdrew the dagger from his stomach, which looked rather painful and fairly gory, and threw it at me; I dodged it but made the mistake of trying to retrieve it. By the time I had the dagger again his gun was out and there was a bullet buried deeply in my shoulder. I hissed in pain but refused to scream, my throat already dry from yelling so much.

"Just die you stupid Assassin bitch!"

I put my hand over the pouring wound and squeezed, blood covered my hand as I looked up at The Agent from where I was on my knees. The pistol was leveled with my skull, now touching my forehead. The metal of the gun was hot, still steaming from the bullet leaving the barrel. I was frozen, fear like ice in fiery veins. There was a stinging sensation going through my body but I ignored it as I glowered down The Agent as darkly as possible.

"You first." I hissed quietly, not even noticing the sudden lack of the sound of gunfire from around us. Instantly after I shifted and, me using my shoulders to plow down The Agent, knocked him onto his ass. He yelped as I had hit his wound head on, I pinned him then, using the last bit of strength I had left as blood was continuing to flow down my shoulder and arm. Before I could blink I had the dagger to his throat, my breathing so deep, quick, and shallow that I could barely hear anything over it.

"You think you can change anything?" The Agent began to speak, his breathing almost as labored as mine. "You think you can save those Indians? Free the slaves? You think you can be some big Goddamn hero and save the world? That anything will change just 'cause you're here? Well reality check dumbass, you can't change anything! Their always gonna die!" He yells, wiggling underneath my hold, squirming under my gaze, the dagger only digging further and further into his neck.

Sure, he might be right…but…but- "I. Can. Still. Try." I say behind grinding teeth, trying to bear the pain that was starting to overwhelm me. I had no choice, I didn't want to kill anyone, I wanted my hands to stay clean. But what was I thinking? This wasn't some cartoon where all you do is reprimand the villain and then they go away. There is no black and white here, no good or evil, this is all gray. This was all about survival. And the only way to survive here was kill or be killed, and call me selfish but I wanted to live.

I slice his neck before I lose my drive to do so. I can only slice so deep and in the end it takes five minutes, his body writhing in pain, desperate gasps of lifeless breaths wheezing out, before he finally dies. If I could have I would have at least ended it quickly for him, but I couldn't, I wasn't strong enough.

I find myself falling back, pain increasing, my trembling turning to shuttering, my hand grasping harder at the hole in my shoulder. I want to think, my eyes looking up at the sky, the clouds raining down drops but it only lightly sprinkling now. I want to keep my mind off the fact I might be bleeding to death, I might be dying here and now. I want to think about anything, expect for the fact I had just killed someone, and except for the fact Isaac's dead. But those are the only things that are coming to my mind, so now I'm dying and crying and begging for my _Tsi'a _to come and either comfort me 'till I die or save me. And at this point I wasn't going to be picky about which one it turned out to be.

I turn my head from the clouds as I think of Connor, I see British troops retreating and rebel troops whooping in victory and I smile. We won, dead or not at least I saved Connor. Suddenly I see Yakohsa:tens riding up the hill, Connor victorious and happy while riding toward me. But when our gazes connect his disposition instantly changes and he's riding toward me as fast as he can.

I think then that I might live, that maybe Connor will tenderly rub some salve into my shoulder and scold me then let me sleep for a week. But suddenly there is a shadow looming over me and when I look up all I see is a red uniform and the butt of a rifle coming down on me, then everything fades to black.

"_**Khe'kén:'a!"**_

**-X-**

**End Notes: **_ SORRY! I did not mean for this to take so long, but for your waiting this chapter is 2,000 words longer then any other, and I still had to cut it into two parts! I've just been so busy lately and my Internet has been down. I tried my best on this and I really hope you all liked it._

_Dun dun duh! Cliffhanger! Originally I didn't have this cliffhanger planned and I wanted to put in something to explain Connor's quick trust of Kyle, but that'll have to wait 'till next chapter. I have no idea when I'll get to that but I'll try to as fast as possible. Some of this was a bit unbelievable and I had to pull it out of my butt but I hope you still enjoyed reading it!_

_I also want to thank all of you for following, favoring, and reviewing! I want to wish you guys a Very Merry Christmas! (And or any holidays you celebrate during the December month.)_

_Speaking of Christmas tell me in either a PM or review if you might be interested in reading a Christmas Special One-shot. If I get around 5 requests for it I'll start working on it soon, keep in mind it'll take me longer to work on chapter 4 because of that though._

**R&R PLEASE!**


	4. Kyle and The New York Pitts

**Author's Note: **_Oh my God! Has it really been almost a year since I updated this? Oh boy, sorry guys, life got in the way, you know how it is. Not only that I left it on a cliffhanger didn't I? Sorry about that! But now that I'm a high school graduate with plenty of time on my hands I'll be able to work on this even more! Thank God for Summer! Here's a tip, pay attention to the dates, it explains a few things I don't put into words._

_-An FYI update-:__ I'm going to try and finish this story as fast as I can, so that when number 4 Black Flags comes out I can write something for it. But I'm not gonna rush myself, also this chapter might seem a bit rusty, it'll take me a little bit to get back into the swing of things, I apologize for that ahead of time. Also a few events might seem out of place here and there, but I'm doing that on purpose to hurry the plot along. I'm doing this all for you though guys! You're all awesome and I love 'ya! ~Don't go chang'n!~_

_So here it is, the extremely late, extremely long, Chapter 4._

_ENJOY!_

_**Special thanks to: **__Everyone who's followed, favored, or reviewed since the last time I checked. I haven't been able to keep up, sorry. But I really appreciate all your support! And I REALLY REALLY mean that! None of this would be possible without you guys!_

**-X-**

**_Revolutionary Tactics_**

**Chapter 4: **_Kyle And The New York Pitts_

_New York, New York. Fort George; April 22__th__, 1775._

Dark.

It was so dark….

I was so hungry….

My shoulder hurt so much….

I took deep breaths as I rose from where I lay. The ground was of cold gray concrete, bloody splotches here and there. I could tell by the feeling of gore and the metallic smelling goo touching my fingers. And it felt wrong, everything felt wrong, like I was floating, numbness shrouding most of my body except for the stinging throbbing pain in my shoulder.

After I set up I tried to get my bearings. My head spun, my brain feeling as if it was floating around in saltwater. I tried to feel of the tips of my fingers, but even when I moved them around in front of my face, I couldn't see them or feel them.

It was so cold that the nerve endings in my body were being affected. I could even feel my own breath ghosting over my naked and bared chest. The only thing I had left on was my pants, and they seemed to be ripped in several different places. At least that's what I guessed from the cold spots I could feel on my legs.

When I stopped caring about my fingers I went to gently touch my shoulder. As my middle finger grazes the wound I feel a strong shot of lightning like pain go through me. I try to ignore the agony as I press my palm across the bloodied bandage on my shoulder. I hiss through my gritted teeth and feel the warm exhale of breath on my legs.

Obviously somebody had bandaged the wound to stop it from bleeding, but didn't care to remove the bullet from inside my shoulder. _What a horrible doctor they must be._

At that point I try and remember what had happened to get me here. Slowly, like trying to force my way through sinking sand, recollection of past events comes back to me, like water filling a glass. The information slides into place and I blink hard, wondering if I've gone blind.

When I see movement in the shadows I know I haven't. I realize that it's just so dark wherever I am that I can't see through the blackness. Steadily, I lift my arm to reach out; when I hear a metallic jingle I begin to feel the stirrings of a migraine.

My arms, as I test, pulling against both sets of chains, were shackled to the wall, leaving me bound and immobilized. _'Great, just great, captured by Redcoats and completely helpless.' _Not only that, if I didn't get someone to stitch up my gunshot wound soon I'd probably die.

'_As if it matters.'_ I think sourly, as I just allow my body to go completely spread eagle out on the cold, icky, concrete ground. _'They're gonna kill me anyway.'_ I groan as pain and the horrible horrible thought of my inevitable death begin closing in on my mind.

'_Whatever you do just don't think of Isaac.'_ I bang my head against the floor. "Shit." My voice whispers into the dark, my throat stinging just as badly as my shoulder. Tears slowly begin to form in my eyes, and I feel them trickling down my cheek, to my throat.

The tears are warm, but it's so cold, they bring me no comfort. I try and control myself, my resolve slipping as I feel hunger affecting me again. My gut trembled, my stomach burning like a bon fire.

But why fight it, the pain, the numbness, the tears? I was just going to die anyway, right? So why not face it now, while no one's looking, while I can still die with my dignity intact?

The tears slip further, my sobs getting louder, and the pain grows deeper. It felt like my entire world had crumbled into oblivion. I had failed Connor, getting myself caught by the Redcoats. I had failed Achilles; letting all of his teachings go to waste. I had failed Isaac, having to watch him die in front of me. I failed the Assassin Order, becoming an apprentice just so that I could die two months later. I had failed everyone, even Minerva.

I thought it couldn't possibly get any worse.

But then, it did.

**-X-**

_New York, New York. Fort George; April 23__rd__, 1775._

About a day later my tears dry up and I feel so weak. I don't have the strength to cry anymore, my body's hit it's limit. My stomach quivers, and I cringe at the burning pain. The outside of my skin just feels like pin pricks as I twitch out onto the ground.

The wound in my shoulder's gotten worse, I can feel it bleeding again, warm thick sludge sliding down my side. Even my breathing has become uneven; I can feel my last hours ticking away slowly but surely.

My eyes sting, my nose dripping, but no more tears come. I feel so cold and numb, even the thought of my family doesn't bring tears to my eyes anymore. Only the thought that I had killed a man makes my heart beat harder. It was in the moment, but now, out of that small bubble of time and space and adrenaline, it feels so wrong.

I twitch again and I can practically hear rats crawling around the cell. I was pretty sure that the movement of shadows in the dark was the rats scurrying about. And as much as I hate rats I really didn't have the energy to even consider them, let alone worry about them.

By now I've cried about everything I can think of, and by now I only have a little time left before my last moments. I can't even bring myself to care anymore. Life. Death. What was the difference? I just wished it would end already. I was so tired; I just wanted to sleep forever.

"Sir!"

There was a sudden movement outside, the sound of a soldier going to attention and saluting. Following that I hear a scuffle, men walking closer to the door. I remain dead silent, listening carefully, and praying that they weren't coming for me.

"The prisoner?" A familiar voice calls, the sounds getting closer and closer.

"The Indian called her his apprentice, sir." A soldier remarks as he marches alongside what sounds like a higher up.

'_They heard that? But how? Everyone there at the time was…'_ I try to think quickly, remembering who all was there at Concord that heard Connor reprimand me. In my head I imagine where the five of us were standing at the tree line, just a few feet from the bridge. There was James Barrett, William Dawes, Connor, Isaac, and me. But none of them were traitors, were they? That would be the only way the Redcoats would know. _'Had someone else listened in?'_

"General Gage's men brought her in, sir." They were at the door now, and I began to feel myself tremble in fear.

"Do they know she's still alive?" The familiar voice asked, it sounding even closer than the soldier's.

"No, sir." He answered stiffly.

"Good." I can practically hear him nod. Then there's a jingling sound, most likely keys being handed off to the higher up. "May the father of understanding guide you."

When I hear the familiar voice say this phrase I gulp. They were both Templars, and they knew I was an Assassin in training. _So much for a clean quick death._ I groan silently and let myself curl up, not that trying to protect my body would do any good.

There is some more scuffling and murmuring outside the door before it's opened. Slowly, the wooden cell door opens with a loud screeching sound. Light flows in like water over a dam. The first thing the light hits is my fellow cell mates; long since dead rotting corpses with rats eating their remains. I would have screamed, if only my lungs still worked. I would have thrown up, if only I had something in my stomach.

The door opens all the way and I'm blinded. As my eyes adjust, pupils dilating slowly, my head begins to throb. My eyelids shut quickly and tightly as my eyes sting from the sudden light. My stomach rolls as my head begins to pound with another migraine. Pain flares up in my body and I hiss through gritted teeth as I try not to whimper.

"Get her on her feet." The familiar voice barks the command, and in a hurry three sets of feet scuffle to follow his lead.

Tightly, and aggressively, two sets of hands pick me up by the arms. The wound on my shoulder stretches, and I yelp out in pain, biting down on my tongue so I don't scream. The shackles around my wrists constrict as I'm pulled to my feet. When standing I waver, but the soldiers hold me up, bruising my arms with their grip.

Gently, I open my eyes. I gap when I see Charles Lee himself standing in front of me. I feel the soldiers' grips tighten on my arms. I bite my tongue and watch Lee carefully as he glowers down at my weakened and pitiful form.

"Three days without food, you must be hungry." Lee's voice is bitter, covered in a false honey sweet tone. It reminded me of a clerk behind the counter, they hate your guts but they want you to buy the crap their selling. The leer in Charles' eyes doesn't match up with the conniving smirk on his face. But, with his hands behind him, he goes on. "I _could_ feed you." He propositions. I wait for the other shoe to drop. "And you _could_ tell me where the Assassins are. How about a trade?" Charles asks, his tone so fake, eyes so dark, it disgusted me.

"No." Was the only answer I gave. My body was weak, I wanted to die from the pain I was feeling, but I'd failed Connor too many times. I wasn't going to fail him again.

Charles tsked, the smirk sliding off his face. He strongly scowled at me as he made a motion at the soldiers. This motion apparently meant kick the crap out of the prisoner, because that's what they did.

Once to my stomach, twice to my legs, and when I was on my knees they hit me in the back. I landed face first on the ground, breath having vanished from my lungs, blood running down my chin.

Lee leaned down and looked me in the eye. "Tongue a little looser now, girl?"

"No." I growled, spitting blood into his face.

He glowered heavily and put his foot down on my hand, slowly crushing it until I screamed.

And that was only day one.

**-X-**

_New York, New York. Fort George; April 24__th__, 1775._

At the crack of dawn on day two I was re-bandaged, salve put on my shoulder to stop the bleeding. But by then my shoulder had begun to swell with redness. The wound was beginning to get badly infected. When anyone would touch it, which was often during the torture, it would burn and sting so badly I'd lose my vision.

Today, after Lee was sure I wouldn't die on him, they brought a big bucket of water into the cell. As soon as I saw it I nearly fainted. Water torture was one of the main techniques of torture used early on in history, before they had electricity that is. It wasn't painful, it was… _grueling_, a type of mental and physical torture.

"Food for knowledge. Your choice." Lee begins as he paces the length of the cell. "We can stop at any time." He goes on, that dark leer still so deep down in his black gaze, a true Templar to his very core.

I shake my head sluggishly, my entire body shaking down to its roots. I just wanted him to kill me, to get it over with. I said as much.

"I'll die first." My voice cracks, my lungs burn, as I look up at him. The two soldiers hold me strongly, my body drooping in their grip. Next to the door was the third soldier, keeping an eye out for non-Templars I suspected.

'_I'll die first.'_ I thought far more sourly than I spoke it. That statement was fact, not threat. Lee would kill me long before I'd get any words out, even if I was planning on ever telling him anything. But I wasn't, why die a traitor? Connor and Isaac deserved better, but I was just me, I couldn't change who I was. Might as well try to be as strong as I can be.

For them I could take on my pain threshold. Which was a small amount, how I'd made it so far without breaking was beyond me. _Perhaps Minerva was giving me strength?_

"We'll see." Lee remarks darkly, nodding to the two holding me.

Suddenly, my head is under water. I can't breath, but my lungs take in breath after breath of H2O. In a moment of total despair I try and force myself to drown. I take in as much water as I can. But before I can go completely under the soldiers pull me back, and I throw up all of the liquid I'd taken in.

All I have to do is shake my head and I'm back under again, taking on water just like before. It's not enough that they try and drown me, but the water is also freezing cold, and dirty. It was most likely water from the river.

Time after time, hour after hour, it almost seemed never ending. But after a long while I began to feel like I was part fish. Before long my lungs felt raw, my throat sore, and oddly enough I needed to pee.

At least I wasn't thirsty anymore…

**-X-**

_New York, New York. Fort George; April 26__th__, 1775._

Two days worth of the water torture, two nights worth of peeing in the corner and freezing to death in the darkness, and my resolve was beginning to break. Every time my head was dunked down I saw faces. I saw the faces of my family, blood and not blood. All I could keep thinking was: _Just one more time, for them. Do it for them. Just this last time. _

And every single time my head got dunked under I got that much closer to death. I just kept telling myself to hold on a little bit longer, my resolve could _NOT_ crumble. I had to die first. I just had to! Every time my heart beat hard, every time I felt like relieving myself of the torture, I bit my tongue until it bled.

There was no way… I couldn't give up… I wouldn't! I owed Connor far more than my life; I owed him my silence.

Lee sighed dramatically. "How much longer must we do this girl?"

I took a breath and fainted.

"You're not going to last much longer."

**-X-**

_New York, New York. Fort George; April 27__th__, 1775._

Today I wasn't kicked awake at the crack of dawn. Today I waited, something dark looming in the air, I could feel it.

Rain pored down onto the roof of the fort. It rained so heavily, in fact, that I could even hear it in my cell.

_-Drip… drip…. drip…. drip-_

There was a leak in my prison, and all it did was make me feel colder. Even as I wrapped my arms around myself, naked as I was, all I could do was shiver.

I was chained again, my wrists bled from how the soldiers had roughly taken off and put back on my shackles. Today I tugged at them, restlessly, as I waited for the soldiers to come and beat me. Today I waited, but they never came.

_New York, New York. Fort George; April 28__th__, 1775._

When I woke up there was actual food waiting for me at my side. It wasn't gruel like usual, and it wasn't in a pathetic amount. In fact, it was a nice bowl of oatmeal, some bread, and an apple. Greedily, I lapped it all up, even licking the bottom of the bowl until my tongue was raw.

My stomach wasn't full, not by far, but at least now I felt a bit stronger. After an hour, when my stomach had digested the nutrients, I could practically hear my belly purring. Slowly, I could even feel the foods effect on my wounds, knitting skin tightly back together.

I could only wonder why this time I had been feed so well.

Something wasn't right.

I could smell foul play.

And it only occurred to me then that I should have perhaps analyzed the food before eating it.

**-X-**

_New York, New York. Fort George; April 29__th__, 1775._

I could hear men talking outside my cell.

And what they were saying terrified me.

"I hear the Grand Master's come for a visit."

"What? Really?"

"I heard someone say that he was here talking to General Lee yesterday."

"What about?"

"Don't know."

If it was true, and Haytham was here, then was he the one that told Lee to feed me yesterday? Most likely not, why would Haytham care if I ate or not? He didn't seem to care about killing men when he was looking for Church. Why would that have changed?

Even now I felt fine, so I could safely assume that the food hadn't been poisoned. Maybe they thought I'd die soon without it. And Charles did seem pretty desperate to learn where the _Assassins_ are. Good thing he doesn't know there's just the three of us.

Suddenly, while I was thinking, the door to my cell was kicked open. I jumped back in surprise, but quickly steadied myself. There, beyond the door, was Charles and his usual goon squad. But today there was no bucket of water. Instead, on Lee's face, was a look of severe frustration.

Quickly, in an angry rigid stride, Lee was upon me. He had my hair, pulling it in fistfuls. In one swift tug, he yanked me to my feet. When standing he looked down at me menacingly. I'm proud to admit that he didn't get one single squeak out of me.

"One chance." He snarls, his face inches away from mine. "One chance girl." Charles nearly spits, foaming at the mouth in livid annoyance. His gaze is so dark, yet flaming, so simply terrifying, I nearly say yes.

"No." I lightly whimper and before I can blink I'm thrown to the wall, my head bashed against the cold-gritted bricks. I only have a moment to sit back up and feel the back of my head before my stomach is kicked. As usual, I bite my tongue, and feel the blood on my fingers from where I touch the back of my head.

"Hold her down." Charles snapped, walking away and through the door as the two soldiers quickly stepped into attention to follow his orders.

I can't struggle; I don't have the strength. Instead, I allow the two men to grab me fiercely and throw me back down to the ground. They pin me, holding down my arms and legs as Charles comes back with something in his hands.

There's a smile of absolute maniacal glee on his face as he holds up a brand. On one end of the brand is a burning Templar cross, fresh from the fire. And if you don't know what a brand is, it's a long metal stick with a symbol created at the end of it. Farmers use it to brand, or sign, their cattle, so that they know it's there's. It's a mark of ownership.

It works by taking the shaped end, holding it over the fire for a long time, then burning the mark into the cow's skin. But instead of a cow's skin, right now, it was my skin about to be burned.

Charles Lee was going to brand the Templar's cross onto my back!

I shake my head savagely and my body tremors in anticipation of the agony. All I can do is try and pull my arms back, kick my legs out, but the only thing I receive in return is a near broken nose as my head is punched into the ground. I cry out this time, as one of the soldiers pinning me had punched the concussion I had just received from Charles.

But that pain was nothing compared to what laid ahead.

With every slow steady step Lee took was another moment that my mind took to spiral down. Down, down, into the darkest depths of my fears. Fire, fire began to burn upward and all I saw was death and reality being ripped apart.

I remember the last time I saw my father, reality told me I'd never see him again. I remembered the last time I saw my mother smile, reality told me I'd never see that smile again. Reality told me I'd never hear my brother laugh again, or see my friends hanging out playing video games again.

Reality also told me this was all fictional, _just a bad dream_.

Reality told me that Connor didn't really exist; yet I had felt his breath on the back of my neck as he taught me to use a bow. Reality said Connor was nothing but a character in a story told by a game, yet I felt him hold my hands as he showed me how to wield a Tomahawk.

Reality says that Assassin's and Templars were nothing but mere myth and legend, yet I was an Assassin's apprentice. Reality says that time travel is impossible, yet I'd lived the last few months of my life in 1775 even though I was born in 1994.

My mind kept spiraling down, deeper and deeper, hitting the heart of my fears.

Was this all real?

Was I dreaming?

But the real question was: Was I so much of a coward that I would reject this world, not just because reality says it can't be, but so that I could escape the pain I was about to endure?

The answer was…

"_**NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"**_ The brand burned into my back, my mind wide-awake, brain no longer spiraling but snapped back into my skull.

My skin sizzled, fire ripping into my flesh like claws. The pain was so much that I didn't even think to stop myself from screaming. My vision became impaired, white-hot tears streaming down my face. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes like hours, as the red hot metal buried its mark clean into my back. So deeply, in fact, I could feel it reaching to my spine.

I don't even notice when Charles has taken the brand away from my skin, nor do I notice him leave with the other three soldiers, as even hours after he's gone, the pain is still agony. Everything still burns. He could have set me completely on fire, left my body to burn to ashes, and it still would have felt the same.

When I can't scream anymore, darkness fills the edges of my eyes, and all that comes is nightmares.

**-X-**

_New York, New York. Fort George; May__3__rd__, 1775._

I lapse into what feels like an endless sleep.

I dream dark dreams.

I have nightmares.

In those nightmares all I see is fire and all I do is burn.

All I can do is scream.

"_**Khe'kén:'a!"**_

Then, after so long, out of the darkness comes a voice; the fire suddenly stops.

In it's place comes a far worse nightmare.

"_**Khe'kén:'a!"**_

Slowly, the scene in my unconscious mind changes; piece by piece, part by part. They all slot together like a puzzle steadily solving itself. First, the tree line appears, then the bridge, the water underneath it, and the British soldiers beyond it. Lastly, Concord appears behind us, and I'm laying there, the bullet in my shoulder fresh.

"_**Khe'kén:'a!"**_

Connor's there, riding toward me, and going as slowly as physically possible. I hear him calling out to me in his native tongue, but I don't know what he's saying. He hasn't taught me that word yet.

My mind thinks sluggishly, my brain feels swollen and thick. I watch Connor and blink, trying so hard to do something, anything! All I can do is raise my arm up, inch by inch, my hand reaching out to grab him.

"_Tsi'a." _I rasp out, the word merely a whisper, a whimper on my lips, as that's all I can get out. My lungs burn, my shoulder throbs, and all I want to do is grab his hand.

Inch by inch, I stretch my arm farther and farther, but I know the ending to this dream. I know I'll never reach him, he'll never reach me, and the only thing that will happen is… more nightmares. _Nightmares in the waking world._

"I just want to go home tsi'a." Tears sting my eyes, and even though everything hurts so much, I cry. It was nothing but whimpers and whispering sobs, but I cry. I cry until I hear a voice in my ear.

"Then grab my hand khe'kén:'a_." _It's Connor's voice, strong and there and real, right in my ear. And when I hear this I see a hand, distorted in my blurred vision, reaching out to me. It was so close, close enough for me to grab.

So I reach out, just a few inches farther, stretching my invisible shackles, to grab ahold of the hand in front of me. And to my luck, it really is close enough. I intertwine my fingers with his, grasping his hand as tightly as I can.

I blink again and I'm awake.

I look up and see my hand holding someone else's.

My eyes follow the arm, to the shoulder, through the robes, and up until I see the shrouded gaze. It's warm and longing, rough and edged, worried and conscious. The eyes are dark, but they're not bleak or black in any way.

I know those eyes.

I had had dreams about those eyes… and of my rescue.

"C-conn-conn-or!" I can't even get through his name before I begin to sob harder. My teeth clench, a hot lump in my throat. My vision blurs and I feel hot tears stream down my face.

But for the first time in a long time, they weren't desperate tears, they weren't sad tears or depressed tears. They were tears of _joy_.

I leapt, not even caring about my shackles, or the fact I was weak from malnourishment and my wounds. I leapt into his arms and embraced him as tightly as my frail body could.

"CONNOR!" I cleared my throat and cried, tears ending up all over his shoulder. But he didn't care; all he did was embrace me gently back. "I thought I'd never see you again. I thought I was gonna die." I speak quickly, my voice excited. I can't help the sobbing and I can't help the volume either, I was just so happy.

I finally had hope!

"Please, Kyle_, _calm down." Connor steadily puts his hands to my shoulders and pushes me away. I wince and he pulls his hands swiftly back. "You are hurt, and weak. You must stay calm." He says this all so sweetly, so gently, so quietly. "Please." He repeats in a whisper.

And automatically I know exactly the words he leaves out.

'_Please come home.'_

'_Please never do this again.'_

'_Please don't die.'_

All I do is sigh longingly and nod.

"Here." Connor slowly stands and pulls the hooded jacket off of himself. I watch him do so; a little shocked that he would take his Assassin robes off, and all he wears underneath his jacket is a simple white tunic.

Smoothly, he puts the jacket around my shoulders and I pull my arms through. After that I buttoned it up, while I was doing that Connor began to unlock the shackles around my wrist. With each hand that appeared out of the jacket's sleeves, Connor would softly grab the palm and use a stolen key to unlock the chains.

When I was completely covered and freed, Connor tenderly put a hand behind my back and under my knees, lifting me up in his arms. Instantly I felt warm, the cold of being caged for so long vanishing. In his arms I felt safe, in his arms I felt like I was home. And oddly, against my own nature, I didn't even think about how girly and 'damsel in distress' it was for Connor to carry me. Really, to me, that stuff didn't matter anymore.

Gradually, Connor made his way out of the cell and down the corridors. Practically on his tiptoes, he snuck through the hallways of the fort, being as quiet as a mouse. I saw a Redcoat here and there but not half as many as I thought there would be.

As I silently watched Connor's side, my head not wanting to turn from where it was leaning against Connor's shoulder, I saw a room. Something inside it caught my eye and I quickly grabbed at Connor's arm, begging him to stop.

Big brown eyes looked down at me questioningly. I pointed back to the room, and Connor gave me a light glare. I glared back, and all Connor could do was growl in annoyance and turn around.

Two steps back and we were in the room. It was small, but full to the brim of stuff, stolen stuff. Mainly my stolen stuff! Inside there was my hoody, um…. my bra _(awkward!),_ the two flintlock pistols Isaac had given me to give to Putnam, Connor's bow, and….

I had to struggle to get Connor to put me down. He was very reluctant to let me walk on my own, but if I could still do anything it was walk on my own two feet. We argued silently for a few moments before he finally let me down. As soon as he does, I walk further into the room and find a huge wooden chest.

My hand touched something cold and metallic as I pulled thing after thing out of the chest. On the table beside it had been my clothes, inside the chest had been the bow, guns, and…

I touched the heavy object and pulled it out where I could see it. In the light it shined a bright silver, an Abstergo logo on its side, the Templar cross on the other. The edges were smooth, the make of the pistol nothing like from this time. Its clip was long, holding an extra six shots; the make and model were that of mercenary's type and style. A Berretta 92F, equipped even with a laser sight below the barrel.

It was the gun the Templar agent from my time had had! This was the same gun that had shot me in the shoulder…. the same one that had killed Isaac.

Instantly, I knew I needed to get rid of it. The soldiers of this time could not be allowed to get their hands on it, let alone analyze it to see how it works! If I hadn't butterfly-affected history yet then this surely would.

So, while Connor was looking away, I tucked it into my pocket, and then played it off by putting the bow over my shoulder, hooking Pitcairn's gun holsters around me, and carrying my hoody and bra in my arms. After I was done with that I walked back over to Connor, swiftly he picked me back up again, and I groaned, rolling my eyes. All Connor did was ignore my noises of annoyance and keep walking.

In the long run, we made it out without so much as a battle. But from the dead bodies that I saw lying around on our way out, I had a feeling Connor had already picked a fight. It was just one on his way in.

Outside I see Yakohsa:tens waiting for us. The pale horse whines when she sees her master. Connor gracefully carries me over to her, then lifts me up and helps me into the saddle. Quickly, he gets on right behind me.

As he grabs the reins I lean into him. I feel his warmth and the heat of the sun on my skin. The hood gets pulled over my head as Yakohsa:tens starts into a trot. My eyes get covered but I can still feel the sunlight. It had felt like years since I last saw the light of day, but I'd later find out it had only been two weeks.

_Just two weeks._

Suddenly, I feel exhausted, and for the first time in _two weeks_, comfortable. So I lean back and get that much closer to Connor as I close my eyes. Sleepily, I begin to mumble.

"I didn't tell them anything _tsi'a. _I… stayed strong… for you…. Just like I promised."

Instantly, after that I was asleep…. and I slept all the way home.

**-X-**

I feel movement but I don't wake up. My world floats and I feel like I'm flying.

"Doctor White."

I hear Connor's voice.

"Ah! Yes, Connor. Come in!"

Then I hear an unfamiliar voice.

"Oh, what's happened to her?"

Connor only mumbles something.

"Oh! Umm, put her over there."

Movement, I'm flying again.

"Lay her out on top of the table."

Then the movement stops and I'm not flying anymore.

"Here, take this…."

I hear a noise, the sound of a grasp.

"Connor, I'm sorry, but I need to see what's wrong."

It's quiet for a moment, then I feel someone begin to tug and pull at my clothes.

My mind is foggy, I'm asleep but I'm not at the same time. I'm just at the edge. I want to stay asleep but the tugging is keeping me floating in-between. I groan and try and swat at the hand messing with my clothes. But I use the wrong arm and my shoulder stretches, the swollen and badly infected wound begins to burn, I react by hissing out in pain.

The pain wakes me up the rest of the way and I slowly open my crusty eyes. When I look up I see Doctor White from the Homestead. He's taking off the jacket I'm wearing, instantly I remember the Berretta inside the pocket and I grab for it. I don't even consider my modesty; all I care is that no one finds that gun. Instead of White trying to pull my hand away though, Connor does. The look in his eye stops me dead and I let go.

After the jacket is gone, bow and holsters already taken from me, Doctor White begins to look at my shoulder.

"Oh my…" Lyle has a startled look on his face as he sees my first wound. I look over at it and all I see is cherry red puffed out skin surrounding a yellow and green scab. The Doctor's gaze darkness as he really sees it for what it is. "Those bastards." He whispers.

"The bullet…" I rasp. Hearing this Lyle's head pops up and his eyes find mine. "The bullet is still in my shoulder." I explain, a crack to my voice, my throat begging for a cold wet drink.

Lyle nods and his expression turns stony, determined. He motions to Connor and goes to grab something from a table. While he and Connor aren't in the room I look around. This was definitely his house in the Homestead, and it was pleasantly nice. But I really wished I wasn't lying on what was obviously the kitchen table.

Connor comes back shortly with a piece of wood. Lyle is right behind him and is holding what looks like a sterilized knife. Already I feel the urge to get up and run away, far far away. I know that THIS is going to HURT.

Lyle puts the knife down and grabs a container of what looks like rubbing alcohol, and then he takes a little glass bottle out of the cabinet not far from where I lay. The little bottle was labeled peroxide. And suddenly I felt like I might just be in good hands.

Lastly, Lyle lays out a roll of bandages and what looks like a sling. When he had all of that ready he nodded to Connor. Connor walked over to me and offered me the piece of wood. I sighed deeply and reluctantly opened my mouth. Didn't take a genius to figure out what the wood was for. Connor lightly slips it into my mouth and I bite down on it.

After I hear Lyle finish washing his hands he walks over and picks back up the knife.

"Ready?" He asks me gently and I roll my eyes in response. "Well then," He replies. "Here we go." Not so slowly, since I thought he would try and be gentle, he digs the blade into my shoulder.

In automatic reflex I bite down on the wood, a muffled groan emerges from my throat. The groan slowly turns into a scream as he digs around in the hole in my shoulder. As he does this I feel blood, and what is most likely puss, stream down my side, to my arm, and into the palm of my hand. I end up screaming for a while, a burning, stinging, and throbbing agony encasing the entire right side of my body.

"Ah! Here we are!" I hear a clank and look over to see Lyle has already put the bullet in a bowl, the knife out of my shoulder. "This… this bullet is… strange. It's not like any bullet I've ever seen before." Doctor White says; putting the bowl down, Connor comes to look at it. The both of them look puzzled.

'_Well it's a copper cased, refined metal alloy, made bullet that's in an oblong shape instead of a sphere. It's pretty different.'_ I think as I take a deep breath and relax my muscles. I spit the piece of wood out of my mouth and inhale as Lyle comes back over to pour alcohol and peroxide into my wound.

The bullet, to my request, is thrown out and never thought of again. The bleeding hole in my shoulder easily distracts both White and Connor from their curiosity. I got lucky on that one, but I know next time, if Connor finds the Berretta, I won't be so lucky.

After applying the very painful disinfectant to my shoulder, Doctor White wraps it up very tightly with at least ten layers of bandage. He says the bandage is to be changed twice a day, and that I'm at least to come over once a day for a disinfectant treatment. Lyle says that the infection isn't as bad as it looks, but that I don't want it to get any worse. He then wraps my wrist in a sling and puts it over my head, Lyle says this will keep my shoulder movement to a minimum and help it heal.

I nod and wince. Hearing this Lyle proceeds to look at my head, seeing how blown my pupils are, he diagnoses that I have a concussion too. He disinfects that next, and then wraps it up just as tightly with bandages. Lastly, and most reluctantly, I turn over and show him the Templar cross that's been burned into my back.

At this I hear Connor take in a breath, and Lyle all out gasps. Out of the corner of my eye I catch Connor leaving, walking outside and slamming the door behind him. A few moments later, as White silently and awkwardly applies what he needs to to the burn, we hear Connor outside. It sounded like he was angrily slamming things around. Hearing this reminds me too much of my brother, who used to lose his temper on a daily basis.

I guessed, back at the fort, Connor hadn't seen the burn on my back. I thought he had, but evidently not.

As White finishes up he asks me if I'd like to put on the hooded coat that Connor had brought in with me. I nod and he gently helps me put it on, adjusting the sling to go over the sleeves.

By the time Lyle is done Connor is back. Before we leave I thank Doctor White for the treatment, and in return he grabs my hand and squeezes it reassuringly. "No need to thank me, just get better."

**-X-**

Somehow, while Connor was talking to White at his doorstep, I was able to take the Berretta from Connor's Assassin robes jacket pocket and put it in my hoody pocket before anyone noticed. When Connor was done talking to White I handed him back the jacket and he puts it back on. The hood is instantly pulled to cover his face, I feel a bit disappointed when I can't see his eyes anymore though.

As we ride up the hill, towards the manor, I begin to feel sick. My stomach churns, and I feel nervous and extremely anxious all at once. All I could do is worry how angry Achilles will be, how disappointed he will be with me. I was scared that he wouldn't allow me back into his home, that I would become homeless and completely alone.

I feel darkness nip at my heart. Anxieties, depression, loneliness, fear, terror, all hitting me at once, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

And it was all for nothing.

Because when we got to the manor Achilles opened the door as we stepped onto the porch. His expression was unreadable, but instead of shouting, yelling, telling me to leave and never return, he slowly smiled. "Welcome back."

As soon as he said that I fainted.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead, Manor; May__5__th__, 1775._

When I wake up I find myself in a room I don't remember existing in the manor. It's got a four-post bed, queen sized, a dresser, a fancy looking rug right in the center of the room, a closet, two couches, a table, a desk, a fireplace, a globe, two bookshelves, and a chest with all of my stuff in it. Come to find out, the day I left, Achilles had had Lance create and move all this stuff into the room across from Connor's while I was out. Some of these things had already been in the room, but had gotten moved around. It had supposed to have been a surprise for when I returned from training, but…

When Achilles told me this some time later, it made me feel even worse about what I did.

The first thing I do when I wake up on day one is grab the side of my hoody. I feel that the Berretta is still there and I exhale. I look around, then try and get up, I have a little trouble at first, but after a while I'm walking like I should. _'Priority one,'_ I thought. _'Hide the gun from the future with all the other future stuff.'_ And that's exactly what I did. I put the Berretta in the chest under my bed and locked it up, happy to be done with it.

Afterwards, I slowly go down stairs to the kitchen. There, Connor and Achilles sit, a huge and completely silent tension between them. This scares me and I try and sneak away before they notice me, but before I can my stomach growls, and I end up being caught.

Hearing that, Achilles offers me breakfast, and my first day back just feels tense. No one talks about what happened, or even really talked at all for that matter.

I thought the next day would be better, but it wasn't.

Two days in and nobody has barely said anything.

I feel better after two days of three course meals, stronger, healthier. My stomach stopped hurting and I could finally talk again without a crack to my voice.

At the end of the second day I finally dive head first into dangerous territory and ask the big question.

"When are we gonna talk about what happened?" We're eating supper when I ask, and I'm playing with the meat on my plate. There's a pregnant pause, the already high tension elevates.

Achilles looks at Connor and Connor looks at Achilles. I gulp.

"I know what I did was wrong." I admit, knowing that I needed to take responsibility for my actions. "And I really have no good excuse." _'That I can actually tell you about.' _I add in my head as I watch the two carefully, all they do is listen. Now their looking away from each other instead of at, and that only makes me feel worse. "But I think, next time-"

"Who says there will be a next time?"

Surprisingly, this interruption comes from Connor. I turn my gaze to match his and I see the anger in his eyes. His tone is cold as he speaks, his stance rigid as he stands.

I look up at him and feel something inside of me begin to crumble. "What do you mean?" I ask, my voice begging, pleading him not to say what I think he's about to say.

"You had no right to be there! It was foolish what you did!" He yells, his dark brown wrathful eyes looking down at my terrified green ones. "And perhaps it too was foolish for you to become an Assassin."

'_No! He couldn't be saying what I think he's saying? Could he?'_ Thoughts began to flash across my mind, multiple voices matched with multiple emotions; so many different responses to choose from. Each emotion carried it's own consequences, and even though I leaned toward desperation I ended up blurting out anger.

"But!" I can't hold back the angry tears that sting my eyes. My hands fist and I rise to my feet as I begin to shout. "But you can't take this away from me!" I plead and demand angrily at the same time, as I began to get more and more upset. "This is all I have! Being an Assassin finally gave me purpose!" I reasoned, taking a step closer to Connor. "You can't take that purpose from me! I made a promise!"

Instantly, all the events that happened at The Battle of Lexington and Concord flashed before my eyes.

I saw all the dead innocents that had been killed by the Redcoat army…

_Blood soaked into the ground, three corpses strewn at Shadow's hooves. It was a family, a little girl and her mother and father, dead because they stood with the idea of freedom. Or maybe it was just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The horse stopped before crossing over them, and I felt something…break inside of me._

I saw Isaac and remembered the promise I made him…

"_G-give th-these t-to that ba-bastard Putnam. T-tell him…. __**I win**__." As soon as the last words leave Isaac's mouth his eyes go completely dull, his hands that I've been holding go lax, and his head lays in the mud, that smile on his face even in death._

I remember what I said to the Templar agent…

"_You think you can change anything?" The Agent began to speak, his breathing almost as labored as mine. "You think you can save those Indians? Free the slaves? You think you can be some big Goddamn hero and save the world? That anything will change just 'cause you're here? Well reality check dumbass, you can't change anything! They're always gonna die!" He yells, wiggling underneath my hold, squirming under my gaze, the dagger only digging further and further into his neck._

_Sure, he might be right…but…but- "I. Can. Still. Try."_

And then I remembered what I did…

_I had no choice, I didn't want to kill anyone, I wanted my hands to stay clean. But what was I thinking? This wasn't some cartoon where all you do is reprimand the villain and then they go away. There is no black and white here, no good or evil, this is all gray. This was all about survival. And the only way to survive here was kill or be killed, and call me selfish but I wanted to live._

_I slice his neck before I lose my drive to do so. I can only slice so deep and in the end it takes five minutes, his body writhing in pain, desperate gasps of lifeless breaths wheezing out, before he finally dies. If I could have I would have at least ended it quickly for him, but I couldn't, I wasn't strong enough._

I had killed for Connor. I had killed for the Assassin Order. I wasn't clean anymore; I wasn't innocent, or a child. I deserved the right! I earned my choice! And no one could take that away from me!

Connor glared down at me, and this time, I glared right back. For the first time I felt like I was just that much closer to becoming Connor's equal. I had a long way to go, sure, but I had killed for the Assassin Order. A Templar no less! I had taken hit after hit to keep their secrets.

I had that right!

"You nearly died!" Connor shouted, his tone dark yet desperate as his eyes stayed completely linked with mine.

And, before I could stop, I threw myself right out in front of the bus…

"I nearly died for _you_!" I bellowed; my teeth gritted as I felt the anger overwhelming me. _'Two weeks of torture,' _was all I could think, _'I withstood two weeks of torture just for him to treat me like this?'_

Connor's eyes widened, he staggered back, a shocked look on his face for nearly a second. In the blink of an eye his expression was cold again, stony, unreadable. He scowled and hid his eyes. He turned heel then and furiously stalked out of the manor, slamming the door behind him again.

As soon as he was gone I realized what I had just said. Ungracefully, I flopped back down on the chair and covered my eyes as they began to sting. I hadn't meant to fight with Connor; I didn't mean to get angry, it all just happened so fast, I couldn't control myself.

I gritted my teeth and bit my tongue as I felt a quick stabbing pain in my shoulder, most likely it's protests against so much aggressive movement.

I didn't even remember Achilles was in the room until he cleared his throat. I nearly fell out of my chair as I heard him. My head whipped around to see him as I settled back down. His face was also dark with deep thought.

"I'm sorry." I apologized, trying to clear my throat as my words came out broken. All I could do was give him my best sorry look, as I truly regretted my actions.

"I am not the one you should be apologizing to." He says simply as he turns around in his chair, grabbing his cane so he can get up.

"I know." I nod and wipe my runny nose off on my sleeve.

Achilles stands and slowly limps over to the window. Beyond the glass I can see Connor dashing out into the woods, obviously upset and very affected by what I had said. In my chest I feel my heart clench, and everything slowly gets darker in my eyes.

"I just…" I shake my head and clear my throat. "I just didn't want to let anyone down. I just wanted to be strong, to help." I pause, and all Achilles does is stand there rigidly, listening as always. "But I guess," I croak and try and cough the lump out of my throat. "I'm still just a big screw up."

My head falls, and even though it hurts like Hell, I let my shoulders go lax as I slump down. I try not to sob; I was really tired of crying, and of feeling like a little girl. I used to cry a lot when I was a kid, especially when I'd screw something up.

When I was just a tyke, as I've said, my dad would take me hunting. But most of the time he'd expect me to be able to do most everything on my own. My dad would tell me to do something and he'd expect it to be done right. I was just a kid though, and I wasn't strong enough, and his drunken commanding attitude never helped stop the tears streaming down my face.

I hated the bastard for all the shit training he put me through; the hunting, the fighting, fishing, guns, everything. But, even after all of that, I still loved him. He was a total dick in my eyes, but all he ever tried to do was raise me.

_Thank God he died._

My thoughts are halted, as suddenly there's a gentle hand on my head. I had been so preoccupied by my thoughts that I hadn't heard Achilles walk over. Even though I know I shouldn't, I lean into the touch.

"I just…" I hiccupped. "I didn't know…" I wiped my nose with my sleeve again as I sat up, looking at Achilles as he stood over me.

"Didn't know what?" He asked gently, his eyes calm and kind.

"That there would be someone listening in." I explained, another strong swallow as I tried to clear the lump out of my throat.

Suddenly, Achilles took his hand back and his eyes sharpened. He began to look very interested in what I had just said. "Who was listening in? Where?" He asked as he began to pull out the chair beside me.

"A Templar agent. Did Connor not mention this?" And as Achilles sat down in front of me I began to realize that Connor most likely didn't even know himself. "Oh! Connor probably doesn't even know! Crap!" I shout, but not too loudly, as things and facts began to play connect-the-dots in my head.

"Where?" Achilles asked again, an edge to his voice.

"In Concord." I answered, and shook my head as I compiled a list of everything that I really needed to tell both Achilles and Connor, important facts that I had forgotten. "There must have been a Templar listening in when Connor mentioned I was his apprentice. That's the only way the soldier there at the fort could have known." I wasn't looking at Achilles as I spoke, I knew he was listening; instead I was trying to concentrate very hard on what I was telling him.

"The soldier, there at my cell, told Charles Lee that Gage's men had brought me in, and that Connor had said I was his apprentice. Probably if they hadn't overheard that they would have just killed me instead of torturing me." My brain rattled as my hands moved, exasperation in my voice as I told my sad and unfortunate story to Achilles. I actually looked back up into his eyes as I spoke the last part, worried about what his reaction might be. "But Lee wanted to know where the rest of the Assassins were. Day after day he'd offer me food if I told him, torture if I didn't. And every day I said the same thing… _no_."

After it was clear that I was done Achilles nodded. He sat there for a while, silently, as he thought over what I had just told him. He was slowly digesting the information, trying to choose what to do next. And I waited, patiently, for him to decide.

"So," He begins, waking me up from where I had begun to doze off. I startle quickly up and looked him directly in the eyes, trying to play off my exhaustion. "They know who you are now." Without him saying so I know he means the Templars, _obviously_.

"I suppose that gives us no choice."

I look at him sideways when he says this, tilting my head to show him my confusion. "Gives you no choice but to what?" I ask, uncertain of the answer.

"To fully train you of course!" He says this like it was evident, and oddly, contrary to the light insult, my face lights up. A huge weight comes off my shoulders and I almost feel like smiling. "If they expect you to be an Assassin then that is what you shall be. Otherwise they might take advantage of our weakness." He mumbles the last sentence, so I don't quite catch it, but I really didn't care. I was actually going to be an Assassin after all!

"Now…" Achilles turns to look out the window again. "To deal with the boy."

Suddenly I feel queasy again, having almost forgotten about my fight with Connor. "What should I say?"

"Nothing." Achilles replies as he gets up. "Let me speak with Connor. I will explain to him what you have told me." When Achilles is on his feet he looks down at me, his gaze much less harder than before. "You," He points with his cane and I immediately sit up straight as a board. "Should get some rest." Instantly I slump back down again, releasing a sigh.

"Okay."

"What was that?"

"I mean; yes sir!"

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead, Manor; May__6__th__, 1775._

My sleep the night before was restless. I turned back and forth, to and fro, and never really got comfortable. All night long I kept thinking about how Achilles had gone to talk to Connor the day before. The only thing I could do was hope and pray that everything would turn out all right. I only barely got any sleep.

But everything was a lot less tense when I went down to breakfast that morning. Achilles and Connor sat there, at the table, side by side, with lightened expressions on their faces.

I sat down and ate, and for a while no one said anything. Soon enough though, Achilles broke the silence.

"We've decided." He announced, a light but serious tone to his voice. "That you're training to be an Assassin continue." When he says this I exhale a held breath. "But while you're healing from your injuries, as punishment for your reckless behavior, you're to do all the chores around the manor."

At this my head whips up and my mouth gaps. The two of them smirk evilly at my surprised expression. Before I say something though, I stop myself. It was a fair trade; I had been expecting punishment anyways. Also, as I'm still going to be an Assassin, I get a rather large punishment.

And when I say rather large punishment, I mean HUGE!

I had to sweep up the whole manor, dust the whole manor, do the laundry, air out and clean the rugs, do the dishes, clean out and fix up the secret Assassin bat-cave basement, clean out the stables, wash the horses, groom the horses, find a replacement for Shadow, and the list just went on and on and ON!

I nearly fainted on the spot when Achilles gave me the list.

But fair was fair….

I blamed Minerva.

**-X-**

It was only later that day, actually, that I got the chance to sort things out with Connor.

I was sweeping the terrace, when, suddenly, Connor climbs up the side of the manor with muddy boots on. He tracks them all over the terrace as nonchalantly as possible, acting as if he wasn't, on purpose, getting his childish revenge on me.

I groan as he gets dirt all over the place that I had nearly finished cleaning. And all he does is stand there smugly.

Instead of bursting out in anger like I wanted to though, I took a deep breath, and calmed down. "I'm sorry." I said seriously, looking up at him, my chin lying on the end of the broom handle. "I didn't mean to cause so much trouble."

Connor didn't say anything for a moment, his hood down again, casting a shadow over his eyes. "You called me tsi'a." He finally responds, not even commenting on the subject at hand.

"Oh." I hadn't even thought about that. I had called him tsi'a, but only when I wasn't really paying attention to what I was saying. Him bringing that up made me feel a little embarrassed.

"Did you mean it?" He asks, his tone questioning, curious as to my answer.

I smile slowly and nod. "Of course, more than anything else."

To this, Connor looks up from where he was hiding his eyes. He looks a little surprised, but not in a bad way, more like in a happy kind of way.

"And you called me khe'kén:'a. What does that mean?" This time it was my turn to ask, and his turn to smile.

"Sister, it means little sister."

"Did you mean it?"

"Of course, more than anything else."

And right there and then I knew everything was going to be just fine.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead, Manor; May__8__th__, 1775._

Two more days worth of cleaning and recuperating later and my concussion was completely healed. The bandages got to come off my head permanently and the headaches were all gone. Doctor White said that my shoulder looked a lot better too, and that I'm healing pretty quickly. It'll still be a while before I can stop wearing the sling, even longer still 'till I can stop putting bandages around the wound, but it was a start.

The infection had come down some, and my arm wasn't as stiff anymore. Lyle mentions that the bullet hole will leave a pretty bad scar, so will the burn on my back. But knowing that only motivates me more. Especially in what I decided a few days ago…

I was going to kill Charles Lee.

There was no way I was gonna tell Connor this, as he really had dibs, and more of the right to. I decided though, that I was going to bare that burden. I even imagined exactly how I was going to do it. I was going to take the gun that had killed Isaac and shoot him right between the eyes with it. All he'd see is the laser dot, then nothing.

I had dreams about it, killing the man that did this to me. The darker side of my mind, the side of myself that still had my father's voice, talked me into it. My father's words convinced me that I deserved the revenge I wanted, and that it was my right to take it.

These thoughts alone, the murder of Charles Lee, rocked me into sleep on certain nights. And I really wasn't sure if I should be worried or terrified.

In the end I let it go and just kept cleaning.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead, Manor; May__9__th__, 1775._

Achilles told me in the morning, during breakfast, that my lessons with him would begin again soon. He mentions that I don't need an arm to listen, and all I do is groan then swiftly get back to eating.

The day goes by pretty quickly after that. Connor leaves to help out some of the Homestead residents and I stay at the manor, beating rugs. Achilles, as usual, stays inside and reads, or sometimes he writes at his desk.

By the time the sun went down I was covered in the dirt that once filled the centerpiece rugs of each room. The only shirt I owned, at one time Connor's tan colored tunic, was a mess and so were my ripped up blue jeans.

I came back inside when I couldn't see outside anymore. Achilles heard me come in and looked up from his book. Seeing my hair in tangles, my face covered in dirt, and my clothes all dusty, he sneered at the sight and smell.

"For Heaven's sake child, take a bath." The Old Man says, then instantly puts his nose back in his book.

I roll my eyes and go upstairs where I know the tub is. I'd shower in the waterfall like I used to, but the sling prevented me from doing that. So I took buckets of cold water from the well and filled the tub up. Before getting in I dusted off my clothes and put them up.

I washed up as quickly, and gently, as I could. The water ended up being freezing by the time I got in. After I jumped out I covered myself up with the cloth you might classify as a towel. With the water still in the tub, and my sling still dry, I cleaned my clothes off with the remaining water.

After that I hung up my clothes outside and took the tub out and poured the water out of it. My arm was beginning to ache at so much movement and, unfortunately, I couldn't use my other hand.

When that was done, still only covered in the cloth, I snuck back inside and up to my room. I closed the door quickly behind me and lay out on the bed that was twice my size, covered in red velvet and satin covers. I sighed and let my muscles go fully relaxed.

With the cloth I began to dry off my short, thick, curly hair some. It didn't take long to dry that, and after I was completely dry I put on my underwear. Underwear, mind you, that was already clean.

After I was nice and clean, dry, and clothed I took out my sketchbook and pencil from the chest under my bed. Sitting at the desk I had in my room I began to sketch the thing that had been plaguing my mind for quite some time.

I started out with light lines at the shoulders, and then drew the hood pulled up, and the interior of the jacket. When I got the lines how I liked them I went over them and made them darker. Next, I textured certain places that needed texturing. I added notes here and there on the sketch, and then, lastly, I drew the red sash on the middle section with the Assassin symbol in the middle of that.

It was my scheme for my Assassin robes.

Similar to Connor's in it's design yet changed to suit me. I had thought of incorporating a few things into it that Connor hadn't had the liberty to have.

For example, I drew in that the jacket's interior would by layered with a fine black leather material. Not only would it keep me extra warm in the winter but it would also act as a type of armor. I wasn't sure how well it would work against muskets but it would surely work against everything else.

The color design was different too. Instead of being blue and white like Connor's it was black and white. On Connor's robes he wore the long military style coat underneath the first layer, on mine the leather part would button together and act as that coat part did on his.

I would still wear the sash and the Assassin symbol on my robes, but instead of the Eagle symbol on my hood there would be a wolf symbol. Also, I drew in a secret holster, being hidden by the layers, and that was for if I decided to take the Berretta with me after all. Then, on the back, there were two sheath holsters, facing each other instead of just hanging there like Connor's Tomahawk did. And lastly, there was a pouch built in. I planned on either putting smoke bombs or throwing knifes in there. I was thinking about using both.

It was really late when I finished with the sketch and I yawned as I tugged myself into bed. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, and that night I dreamt of wearing those robes and of being a capable Assassin like Connor.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead, Manor; May__10__th__, 1775._

Achilles announced that morning that I needed new clothes.

"You need something else to wear besides Connor's old shirts." He starts as I chew on my oatmeal, Connor right beside me doing the same. "You are a young lady, and on occasion, should dress like one."

At this I groaned.

"What was that?"

"Yes sir."

'_A young lady indeed! Just sentence me to death why don't you?'_

**-X-**

Instead of going to clean at the manor like I normally do after my checkup with Doctor White, I was sent to Ellen's.

Her house was nice, not as big as others, but more homey than probably her place in New York. She actually had me stand outside while she took my measurements. After she was done with that though she had me come inside.

Apparently her daughter was out and about, like always. So it was just the two of us while she began to fit clothes onto me as well as sew a few. Achilles was paying her for the job, which made me feel bad. I swore as soon as I could go back to Boston I'd earn some money of my own, which meant I'd steal some.

"How did you end up wearing men's clothes?" Ellen asked as she fitted, God forbid, a sundress onto my form. "Why don't you have any clothes of your own?"

"Oh, uh." I tried to figure out how to explain my predicament to Ellen. "I ended up homeless after my mother died." It was only a half lie. "So I had to leave there, and I never looked back! Clothes weren't exactly the first things on my mind though."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Ellen stitched another piece onto the dress and I tried to stand as still as possible.

"It's okay. If that hadn't happened I would have never met Achilles or Connor, so it was worth it." I said this sincerely, thinking about how my life might have turned out if I had never met Connor that day about four months ago. Really, I can't even imagine my life before I found the Time Traveling Disco Ball anymore.

"You've gotten close to them I see." She says, finishing up on a white-laced sleeve. Ellen then kneels down and begins to finish the bottom of the dress, which ended at my ankles.

"Yeah." I nodded, taking in a deep relaxed breath.

"Used to be if Connor was around you wouldn't be far behind. Your injuries must keep you from traveling around with him." She mentions, tufting out a piece of cloth that didn't match the rest in length. Ellen cuts it evenly then moves on to the back of the dress.

"Yeah." I look down at my arm hidden in the sling, and I sigh.

"But it won't be much longer now, you'll be all healed up. Then you'll be back to being Connor's little shadow." Ellen chuckles lightly as she finishes with the dress. Gently, she puts the pins and cutting tool back down on the table and walks over to me. "Spin." She commands and I do so. "There, all done."

"Could I…" I pause as I look down at the simple white sundress. "Could I get a pair of pants too? Maybe a shirt?" I asked politely, as I looked back over to her.

Ellen smiles and nods smoothly. "Achilles already requested that I make you a few pairs. Don't worry, you won't have to wear that for long." She pats me on the shoulder tenderly, her tone knowing.

I slowly smile back and thank her. In the end, I liked the dress. It wasn't like the restricting dresses from my time. Really, it felt more like a long nightgown instead of a dress. It was comfortable and I could run in it!

I reach for the knob of the door when I go to leave, but instead of turning the knob in my hand I stop. In my arms I hold my hoody, which was what I wore most mornings when I went for my checkup with Lyle. I feel my sketchbook in my hoody pocket and my mind instantly goes to my Assassin robe design.

Swiftly, I turn back around and catch Ellen by surprise.

"You wouldn't happen to need anything from New York, would you?"

**-X-**

I ended up making a deal with Ellen.

In exchange for my retrieval services, Ellen would make my Assassin robe design. She mentioned the leather for the design would be hard to come by, as well as extremely expensive. Very reluctantly, I told her that I knew where to get the leather.

I'd have to give her my leather jacket. Parting with it would be hard but very worth it.

The rest of the things she'd need I could get for her. Ellen then gave me the money I'd need to purchase the items, and the rest would be up to me.

Now I just needed an excuse for going to New York.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead, Manor; May__11__th__, 1775._

"Maybe I could go get that replacement horse today?"

I begin the conversation as Achilles takes a sip from his glass. He pauses, and so does Connor. Everything goes quiet, and then Achilles puts his cup down and sighs. Connor watches Achilles closely, most likely trying to read the Old Man's mind.

"I suppose so."

'_YES!'_ I mentally yell in celebration.

"On one condition."

Suddenly, I stiffen.

'_Don't say Connor has to go with me. Don't say Connor has to go with me. Don't say Connor has to go with me. Don't say Connor has to go with me.'_ I mantra in my head as I cross my fingers under the table, in hopes that maybe I wouldn't need a babysitter.

"That you take it easy. Take Ari with you, and stay the night somewhere." Achilles stands and pushes the chair in behind him. "Boston is a two day journey, if you don't plan on riding back in the night." Achilles began to explain as he motioned me to follow him. Connor followed behind me as I trailed after Achilles.

'_Crap, New York would be three days, better get a plan ready then.'_

I was actually a little shocked that Achilles would ask me to take Ari. Ari was Achilles' horse, a tan mustang that he loved to groom and fuss over in his spare time. But Ari was also a swift and reliable horse, one that would follow you around and stick by your side.

I imagined Achilles asked me to take Ari because he knew I wouldn't lose her.

"While you have only one arm to defend yourself, traveling back in the night would be far too dangerous." Achilles shuffles into his study; Connor and I come in right behind him. The Old Man sits at his desk as he pulls out a drawer. He writes something down in his register and hands me some money. "Take this and stay the night at an Inn." He says, pushing the drawer back into the desk.

"Okay." I nod and then listen to Achilles' list of rules for purchasing a horse. I end up having to write the rules down on paper and put them into my black combat boots, as I had no pockets on the white sundress.

Connor helps me saddle Ari up after we all finish breakfast. I put the small bag of money in Ari's saddlebag and turn back to Connor.

"I'll see you in a few days then." I say, a soft but false smile on my face as I say goodbye. Connor nods, his eyes hidden by the hood he's pulled over his face. "Tsi'a," I say, finally getting Connor's full attention. "I'll be back, promise." I could tell by the look on Connor's face that he disagreed with Achilles' decision to let me go.

Yet, before I get on my horse, I still end up getting a bear hug from Connor. He nearly squeezes me to death, but I don't mind.

Moments later I'm passing house after house in the Homestead, and I can only think how much I hope I get to come back.

I really didn't want anything to go wrong.

**-X-**

_New York; May__12__th__, 1775._

I end up having to ride through the night to get to New York. As I do the forest is extremely quiet, and I'm on edge the whole time. But as dawn breaks I make it to New York, and when I do I take a deep breath and find an Inn to rest at.

I sleep 'till noon and then get right back up to find the things I promised Ellen. There was a cloth shop in town, full of things a seamstress could use. I find it easily, and the man that worked there was kind enough to help me find the things I needed as well as help me get them into the saddlebag. I bet he did that because he saw I could only use one arm. At least, that's what I think.

Next, I head to the stables in town, where I was told I could purchase a horse.

As I'm walking, holding the reins as Ari trots along behind me, I hear a voice. There's shouting, some of it in another language, most of it cursing. I ignore it as I get closer and closer to the stables.

Swiftly, I pass an alley. I notice that the commotion was coming from there. Deep inside the alley, where they're shaded from the sun, there are two men. One's beaten and bloody, and the other one stands tall, dark skin, small cape hanging over his right shoulder, not a drop of blood on him.

Instantly, I recognize the latter, and I begin to walk a little faster.

'_ . . I'm so screwed. I'm so screwed. I'm so screwed.'_ I start freaking out, completely focused on getting as far away from the alley as possible. I'm so focused; in fact, I don't hear the sound of something falling out of my saddlebag.

"Miss!" I hear that familiar voice, and I pray he's not calling to me. "Miss!" But I know he is, because that's just how bad my luck is.

I stop, trying not to look anymore suspicious than I already do. Ari stops behind me and I turn to see my worst nightmare….

Haytham_-Bleeding-_Kenway.

**-X-**

**End Notes: **_Dun dun duh! See, I said you'd get more Haytham in this story than the game has. But don't worry….*smirks evilly* Kyle will be fine._

_As I said, and probably as you read, I'm really rusty. This chapter was probably pretty bad compared to other chapters. Sorry, I'm really sorry about that. I also tried to keep everyone as in character as I could! But I've been working on how the plot will develop in this story. I've got some pretty good ideas, at least I think so._

_So, if you can, bare with me._

_A lot of things are probably all out of order in this story, sorry about that, again. I'm also going to be pushing Kyle's recovery time up so I can write another training chapter, next chapter. I'll try to get it done in the next three weeks, but no promises about the date, I've got a lot of things to manage right now._

_And as I said, this chapter was 4,000 words longer than usual. Plus, another cliff hanger!_

_Also, I just reached 100 pages with this chapter! HOLY CRAP!_

_Any questions or requests just let me know._

_**Please R&R!**_


	5. The Truth Behind Kyle

**Author's Note: **_Oh my God you guys! I love you guys SO much! I'm so glad you all liked last chapter as much as you did. The beginning of this chapter is a bit iffy to me, it's not exactly how I thought Kyle and Haytham would first meet. But later, during the Sequence 9 re-write, I've got some awesome Haytham Kyle dialogue ideas prepared! Three more chapters and you'll get to see that. And I already have the next three chapters all planned, so it won't take as long as usual to write them. Also, in this chapter, you get to learn a bit more about Kyle and why she's here. Next chapter is Bunker Hill and then I'll be done with this Sequence!_

**FYI: **_Playing through the game a second time, I just realized, the Templars didn't know there was any more Assassins left 'till the Bridewell Prison affair. So, it seems I've screwed up the time line a bit. Sorry you guys! But I do believe, I've discovered a way to fix that._

_Also, and I tried to figure this out earlier, Connor did go to the Second Continental Congress. But he doesn't in this, due to Kyle's injuries._

_**Special thanks to: **__Everyone who reviewed, favorited, followed, and read last chapter! You guys are why I do this!_

_Alpha Lima One:__ Thank you so much! I'm REALLY glad you like the story. I'm working hard on it just for you guys!_

_Sassiersphinx81:__ The complete ride, uh? That's a pretty huge compliment! Thank you! I try my hardest to give my readers the best of the best. I only wish I could do more. I also go out of my way with detail, and sometimes I worry I've put too much. I hope this update was soon enough!_

_tylerbamafan34_

_Change of Heart-Good and Evil_

_Nightshade07_

_Fox Mew Brittany: __Really? You think so? Well, I was hoping I'd be able to jump right back in and take off with the story as usual. But I didn't expect it to be better. Thank you, I really appreciate the sentiment! Oh my God! I would never do that though, the Kyle hallucinating Connor and that she was actually hugging Haytham bit. I'm not that awful. XD Interesting idea though. Hmmmm… ^_^_

_red9assassin_

_croisadefantome_

_justcallmeIchigo: __XD Really? I've done stuff like that before, but I actually yell at my computer when stuff like that happens. My mom thinks I'm insane! My hope was that everyone who reads this would enjoy the friendly brother sister relationship Connor and Kyle would have, and I'm really glad you do! Thank you, I'll try and keep it up as much as I can!_

_Portrait of a Scribe: __Yes, tsi'a means Older Brother. XD That's pretty cool, that that chapter actually fit with Game of Thrones backdrop music. I'm really glad this chapter made your day better. Maybe I knew you needed it? Maybe I posted it just for you because I knew my favorite reviewer needed a pick me up in her day? Well, okay, I'm not psychic but just imagine I did. It's my gift to you, because I understand that frustration, I just got done taking a Spanish final, right before I graduated. And foreign languages are not my forte'. And this chapter is my gift to you as well!_

_About college; I'm going to a local place near where I live for my first two basic years. Then I'm transferring over to Seattle University for my Bachelor's degree. But my first goal is to get a Bachelor's degree in English. I'd like to major in English, minor in art. But we'll see._

_I can't wait for Black Flags either, I mean pirates, come on? Assassin pirates! It's gonna be awesome! I also just got done reading your story "Sum of Memories", I think it's pretty interesting but I'll let you know exactly what I think when I review. _

_Thank you! And thanks for the review!_

_AssassinsVow2012: __You missed me? Aw, thanks! ^_^ At least, I hope I get to finish this over the summer. Thank you, I tried to describe it the best I could. Thanks for the review and good luck with finals!_

**-X-**

**_Revolutionary Tactics_**

**Chapter 5: **_The Truth Behind Kyle_

_New York; May 12th, 1775._

'_ . . I'm so screwed. I'm so screwed. I'm so screwed.'_ I start freaking out, completely focused on getting as far away from the alley as possible. I'm so focused; in fact, I don't hear the sound of something falling out of my saddlebag.

"Miss!" I hear that familiar voice, and I pray he's not calling to me. "Miss!" But I know he is, because that's just how bad my luck is.

I stop, trying not to look anymore suspicious than I already do. Ari stops behind me and I turn to see my worst nightmare….

Haytham_-Bleeding-_Kenway.

"You dropped this." Haytham holds out a spool of satin and I look down at his hand, completely and utterly lost. "It fell out of your saddlebag."

My eyelid begins to twitch. If I were an insane person with a death wish I would be shouting all sorts of things at the man. Fortunately, I am at least sane enough to bite my tongue and take the spool silently.

I nod my head and mutter a _thank you_ under my breath. Swiftly, like the devil himself was nipping at my heels, I began to sprint over to the stables. I even made sure not to look twice at the man, hoping he wouldn't pursue me out of mild curiosity.

But Haytham was a Templar, and Templars weren't curious men.

So I was safe… _for now_.

**-X-**

When I get to the stables I look at all the different horses they have for sale. Mares, mules, mustangs, paints, they had all sorts of different types of ponies. After looking, I take out the list Achilles gave me, and then I tie Ari to a post.

I nearly faint when I see that damn smug face again!

Haytham was at the stables too, looking for a new horse as well from what I could tell. I tried sneaking around him, using the list to hide my face. In my head I'm cursing over and over again.

I had protagonist luck. Meaning that I would get pulled into the fire again and again just to barely survive the whole fiasco!

But Haytham had never seen my face before. Surely he wouldn't try and kill me, in front of all these people, just because of suspicion. Right?

Who was I kidding? _If he sees me I'm dead meat._

Quickly, I read the list and compile in my head all the horses that Achilles would be okay with. I walk along the stables, hiding my face in the paper, trying to stay as far away from Haytham as possible.

I take two more swift steps, then abruptly stop as I hear a horse whine. I look up from the paper to see the most beautiful horse I'd ever laid my eyes on. It was a Friesian breed. The horse was black and white, tall, sleek, and elegant. Hair came out in tufts at her legs and her mane was pure black silk.

I was captivated by her…. until my eyes landed on her price. The price of her was twice as much as any other pony in this whole stable. But I imagined it was because of how rare her breed truly was.

Achilles would kill me when I got back to the manor but I just had to have this horse. Something about her called out to me, and I could just see myself riding her, looking tall and elegant and _powerful!_

Apparently though, I wasn't the only one thinking that same thing.

"Beautiful, isn't she?"

I stopped dead in my tracks as I heard the British lit voice. _Is he following me or something?_ I couldn't shake the fear that maybe he did know who I was.

Time to finally put those acting classes I took back in high school to good use!

"Aye, she is." I replied in the best fake sailor like Bostonian accent I could manage. It must have been fine, as Haytham didn't say anything about it.

"Do you plan on purchasing her?" He asks politely, leaning against her stall as nonchalantly as the fat cat lapping up cream. I narrowed my eyes at him, but didn't blurt out anything suspicious.

"Aye, I am." I say slowly, turning on my heel to walk over to the stable master. This time Haytham doesn't follow, and I release a sigh of relief.

Hurriedly, I purchase the horse from the man. I then request his assistance in changing over my saddle to the Friesian. He gets his stable hands to do so and I watch them closely from the sidelines, thinking of what to name the horse.

It hits me almost instantly… _Noir_.

When Noir is saddled I tie Ari to her. I take a few moments to myself before I decide to ride off though. Or, at least, I would have rode off if someone hadn't interrupted me.

"Ah! I see you did purchase her!" Haytham swaggers over to me from the stables as he looks appraisingly at Noir. I roll my eyes while he's not looking.

'_Why the heck is he still bugging me?'_

"Is there, perhaps, any way I could convince you to part with her?"

'_Ah! So that's why! The weasel wanted to buy the horse from me, probably so he didn't have to pay the outrageous price the stable offered.'_ I mentally scowled at the man and rolled my eyes again.

"No." I stated bluntly, about to pull myself up onto the saddle, until a hand on my shoulder stops me.

"Certainly there would be-"

"No." I repeated, cutting off what he believed to be bargaining. In actuality he was beginning to piss me off. I brushed off his hand from my shoulder, and as I looked up to glare at the man I saw something underneath his collar glowing.

I tilted my head and furrowed my brows. _'That couldn't be-…. could it?'_ I wonder, and I almost begin to raise my hand to grab it, but I instantly realize what I'm about to do and I stop myself.

Two seconds later Haytham notices the glow. He completely ignores me as he looks down his shirt. He moves his hand from where he was about to put it on my shoulder again. Instead, he uses it to pull the amulet out from under his many layers of clothing.

As soon as I see it the glow nearly blinds me. On the amulet the markings of the Nexus are showing as clear as day. If I had time I would have wondered why it was glowing in my presence, I would have wondered if it had something to do with my proximity.

But as soon as Haytham looked back down at me, suspicion in his eyes, I bolted. Rapidly, as difficult as it was with a sling, I jumped into the saddle on Noir and began to ride off. Noir, luckily, was even faster than Shadow had been.

So, I left Haytham standing there, staring at the no longer glowing amulet that hung around his neck.

Maybe I was having better luck today than I thought. I was so lucky, in fact, that Haytham didn't even try pursuing me.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead; May__13__th__, 1775._

I ride all through the night, only stopping once to eat and feed the horses. I get back to the Homestead about noon the next day, but still at the appointed time that Achilles had assigned to me.

When Achilles sees Noir… well, lets just say I was right, he was furious. He proclaimed that he'd never ask me to buy anything for him ever again. He hit me with his cane and grumbled curses under his breath for several minutes. But then he really looked at Noir and saw how beautiful she was. After that his anger died down some and he ordered me to put the saddles up and clean the horses.

I do as he says, after I deliver Ellen's things to her. The New York seamstress thanks me and promises to begin working on the Assassin robe design as soon as she can. Ellen mentions it'll take a while, and in reply I promise to bring the leather to her the next day.

After that, the rest of the day went pretty normally.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead; May__20__th__, 1775._

A week of lessons under Achilles later and I was beginning to get antsy. After the first day I decided to take back up my stamina training again. I was well enough for that at least. So, every day for a week, I did the fifty laps around Davenport. I'd start at noon and get back around evening. The difference was, this time, I tried to run the whole fifty, and it got easier every day.

Now it was a week later and I was back at Doctor White's, still wearing the sundress Ellen had made me. I felt a lot more comfortable in the sundress now than I do in my old messed up hoody, so I was beginning to wear it more often.

So, I went in for the normal checkup, the disinfectant and everything, and today Lyle said I didn't have to wear the sling anymore! _I was free! Free I say!_

Well, sort of anyway. He said that I still needed to be careful, and that I didn't need to come by but once a week, since the infection was pretty well healed up now. White then stated that the wound, if forced, could still reopen, and that's why I needed to be careful.

But I didn't tell Connor that!

Out of the sling, with only a few bandages around the no-longer-swollen wound, I practically skipped over to Ellen's. Where I picked up three different pairs of pants, and four shirts. Ellen, secretly, also handed me a few pairs of undies. Shyly, I took them and headed back to the manor.

Swiftly, I ran up the stairs and put up my clothes. After that I changed into one of my new shirts and pants. They fit like a glove, and stretched perfectly, just right for training.

Running back down stairs, I found Connor and Achilles having lunch. Instantly, I presented them my arm.

"No more sling gentlemen, time to get back to training!" I announced happily, smiling like there was no tomorrow.

The two looked at each other then at me. Achilles smiled slyly while Connor only held a confused look on his face. I wondered then if maybe my joke had gone over the Native American's head.

"Ready for training already? Are you sure you don't want to pursue being a maid instead?" Achilles teased, chuckling lightly as the smug look on my face was wiped clean off.

"No!" I whined, feeling as if I had been reverted right back into a five year old.

"Very well." Achilles grinned, a light tone in his voice. "You and Connor can begin where you left off."

I looked over at Connor to confirm this and he nodded.

So, that day after lunch we got back to it…. _Climbing_.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead; May__21__st__, 1775._

"You're insane!" I looked down at the haystack and cringed. "There's no way I'm doing that!" I cried, watching as Connor gives me look of disapproval.

"You will not be harmed, I promise." He shouts up at me, a seriousness in his tone of voice.

Incidentally, I was standing on top of the manor, and no I can't really climb buildings yet, but I was pretty good with trees now. I had used some over hanging branches to get on the roof, and almost instantly afterwards I watched Connor jump into a haystack. Now he wanted me to do the same.

Personally, I thought he was crazy.

"So," I start, shaking a bit as I looked over the side of the roof. "Should I do it exactly how you did it?" I asked, the wind nearly taking my words away.

Connor nods and shouts. "Yes!"

I sighed and thanked God I wasn't afraid of heights. _'The things I do for this Order.'_ I thought as I took a deep breath and groaned, spreading my arms out like wings. _'Like a __akweks.'_ I chanted in my head as the tips of my feet got closer and closer to the edge.

And then, suddenly, I was flying.

I was too scared to open my eyes, but it really did feel like I was flying as I held my arms out like an eagle. The wind whipped past me as I fell, gliding along my arms, almost as if I had feathers.

I didn't open my eyes until after I was surrounded by hay. I gasped as I landed; it felt almost like I had passed through a mattress, like I was a ghost. Then a hand grabbed my arm tenderly and helped me out of the hay.

When I saw Connor's face he was smiling.

I smiled too…until I realized my hair was full of hay. "Damn it, I need another hair cut!"

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead; May__23__rd__, 1775._

I was actually going by a schedule again. It took me a few days, doing this and that, but finally I had a theme going. I started hunting with Connor in the mornings again, us going after harder game now, Connor thinking it would be good endurance training for me. After breakfast I would study with Achilles, but for a shorter period of time now, so that I could do my laps, and still have enough time in the day for agility and climbing practice.

And during the night, before bed, Connor would teach me a few more Mohican words. It took me a little bit longer before I could wring up the courage to ask him to teach me some more of his native language again. But when I did he was more than happy to do so.

At least five times a day though, Connor would have me on the roof of the manor, trying to get me to get over my fear of jumping. He said that hindrance or reluctance out in the field would surely get me killed. But it was hard not being scared, it was hard going against my every instinctual reflex to not jump.

Slowly though, baby steps, I was getting closer every day.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead; May__25__th__, 1775._

"So, what are we doing today?" I asked immediately as I came into the dinning room. Swiftly, light footed, a bit bruised up from the recent training, I sat down next to Connor and grabbed an apple from the center of the table.

"Sword training." He quickly replied, stabbing at his own breakfast on the plate.

Achilles mumbled something, as he sat across from us, his noise buried deeply in a leather bond book.

I shrugged, kind of excited to learn how to wield a sword. It was my preferred weapon really; I had incorporated the ability to hold two swords at once into my Assassin's robes after all.

In the blink of an eye, Connor was up, putting his plate away in the kitchen. I took another bite of the apple and waited for him. A few seconds later he stuck his head in the archway and gave me a look.

It was his _'hurry up, I'm ready' _look. Sometimes Connor could be a little impatient. I didn't even get to finish my apple!

**-X-**

We ended up walking to Big Dave's. His house was right next to his black smith shop, and I had trekked out to his place plenty of times during my free afternoons, while I had still only been able to use one arm. I had watched him make swords for hours, and he never minded, it had always been a companionable silence.

I could hear the loud _ka-shink ka-shink_ of his hammer hitting the metal. The fire roared, flames swallowing the blade of each sword he made. Big Dave, in my opinion, was an artist. Most of the swords he made were beautiful. And one day I would beg him to make me two.

"Mister Walston." Connor addressed the large man politely, going to shake his hand in greetings.

David smiled brightly and shook the offered hand. "Good to see you Connor." He replies, patting Connor's shoulder welcomingly.

"Good morning David!" I said brightly, popping out from where I had been trailing along silently behind Connor.

"Ah! Seems the rascals all healed, heard you got out of the sling." David grins as he sees me, and then goes to give me a tight bear hug. I can't breathe as he does, but I pat him on the back anyway.

When he lets me go I fall down onto my butt, and David nearly pulls my arm out of socket as he helps me up. I was lucky it had been the other arm he had pulled, instead of the slightly still wounded one.

"So," David starts, looking back and forth between Connor and me. "What'da you two up to?" He asks, dusting his hands off on his metal making apron.

The two of us look at each other. I raise a brow as Connor looks to me, almost as if expecting me to know what were doing. But then, he smiles slyly.

"Sword training."

**-X-**

Connor is a beast with a sword.

If we had been practicing with real blades I would have been killed a hundred times over by now. Worst part was, every single time I got knocked down onto my back, David would be there to laugh like a bear and help me back up. At this point, everything hurt.

"Relax your shoulders." Connor commented, putting his hands on my arms. I blushed faintly as he did so but concentrated more on the stance he was trying to show me.

We were taking a break for the moment, and Connor was trying to show me how I should be standing when I go to counter. Sword fighting was a lot harder than I thought it would be. It was far more challenging than trying to use the Tomahawk.

"Move your leg like this." Connor nudged the back of my foot with his, trying to get me to spread my legs a bit more. It was beginning to feel like my face was flushed. I needed desperately to get over my hormones.

"Now, straighten your back." Connor gently pushes my shoulders to the side, trying to be careful of the soreness that still lingered on my injury. I winced lightly enough to where Connor couldn't hear me, and focused more on keeping the stance exactly as he showed me.

"Here." Big Dave suddenly appears by my side. I had been so focused on Connor I hadn't even seen him walk back up to us. In his hand is a short sword, he offers it to me and I carefully take it. "See how that feels in your hands lass."

I hold it, turning and twisting the handle in the palm of my hand. The sword is a few inches shorter than my arm, and adorning a sleek sharp silver blade is a silver cross handle, with leather straps twisted around it. Leather was on the blade's handle to help with grip, so that it would never slip out of my leather-gloved grasp.

It is a bit heavy, but nothing I can't easily get used to. Instantly, I fall in love with the short sword, and want another one just like it. But learning to use one sword was hard enough, learning to dual wield two would take time.

"It feels great!" I reply, an excited tone to my voice. I feel of it a bit more, and then test the balance of it in my hands. I strike out, first making sure I wouldn't hit Connor or Dave. The blade, as it slices perfectly through the air, makes a _sh-wing_ sound. It almost feels like the air was polishing the metal as the sword slices through it.

"Its yours then." Big Dave replies, folding his arms over his chest, his words confident and sure.

I look up at Dave, mouth agape. He would let _me_ have _this_ sword? I couldn't even pay him back, let alone deserve such work in my hands. I just stood there, shaking my head, mesmerized by the shining sunlight glints on the blade.

As I stare at the sword though, something catches my eye. At the bottom of the handle, carved into the metal, was the letter K. Instantly, I understand why. My breath is taken away as I truly realize Big Dave had intentionally made this sword for me.

I smiled sadly up at him, just thinking how I didn't deserve this. In my mind, as I leapt up to hug the overly large man, I set a goal to repay him. I promised myself I would wield this sword with the true honor of an Assassin.

I would become a person who deserved this blade.

**-X-**

As the hours passed, the sun looming over the trees, my focus only got better and better. I became determined to learn each and every stance perfectly. Connor still beat me to a pulp with the practice swords, which were essentially sticks. But I was improving.

Countering was one of the first things Connor taught me how to do. He showed it to me in _slow-mo_ several times, then he attacked me, and I quickly had to learn how to use those moves reflexively.

The hardest part wasn't learning the stance; it was controlling my movements so that I did it correctly and quickly. Connor even pointed out that countering only gets harder when fighting tougher enemies. Normal soldiers would allow you to counter them, but stronger enemies like Commanders wouldn't.

Not only that, if I ever wanted to beat a Templar I needed to be more than just good, I had to be the best; meaning I had to be better than them.

"Alright, one more time." Connor calls, holding the white fine wood stick like a world-class sword. I gulped and then looked over at Dave. All he did was smile and wave from where he sat.

I nodded my head and weakly smiled back. I was really tired of getting splinters in my arm. But, against my better judgment, I got into my stance and prepared myself for Connor's attack.

It was fast, almost to the point I didn't see it. Swiftly, I raised the stick and blocked Connor's first strike. And then another came, just as quickly as the first. He leaned his weight into the block I had put up, nearly bringing me to my knees.

'_Crap, he's strong.'_ I grit my teeth as I bury my heels into the ground. With one big push, I throw Connor off my block. As rapidly as I could, I took my first strike against Connor.

Almost as if he predicted it coming, he dodged the strike. I cursed under my breath as I jumped back, trying to dodge his next attack. But instead of attacking he side steps, about to strike my open side.

My eyes narrowed, sweat flowing down my brow in streams. I catch the attack, twisting my arm to that side. But then my front is open, and Connor fakes me out, as he comes at me from a different angle before I even realize his movements.

He gets me, right in the front, where my heart is. I groan at my loss, and thinking we're done, I relax. But Connor closes in again, and I flinch. Before I understand what's happening, I counter his attack by reflex.

He goes to strike; swiftly I block, and then counter him by kicking him strongly in the knee. His knee buckles, and I take the opening to put the stick to his neck, as if it were really a blade.

We're both breathing heavily as everything stops. All I can hear is his exhaustion; all he can hear is mine. We don't even know what exactly just happened until Dave starts clapping.

"A true natural, our rascal! You'll be killing Redcoat arse before 'ya know it!" Dave pats me on the shoulder and I nearly fall over. With no energy left to hold me up I fall to my knees. "Whoa there missy, no need to go fainting on us."

I look up and smile at Big Dave as he tenderly helps me stand. I thank him and nod my head drowsily. Connor looked a little worse for wear then when we started, but not by much. I seriously needed more stamina if I wanted to keep up with him.

"I think that's enough for today." Connor announces, slowly standing as he wipes off his dirt covered trousers.

"Yay." I say, barely any strength left even in my voice.

"Head back to the manor." Connor begins to pick up the sticks as he speaks. "Get some rest." He ordered kindly, looking up to smile at me. "You did well today, you deserve it."

I smile back at him as I begin to lean against Dave. "Thank you, and gladly! Sleep sounds wonderful right now."

**-X-**

The walk back to the manor felt like it took forever as I trudged along. And, as I did, I got to carry my newly acquired weapon along with me.

Achilles was in his room when I finally got back. I headed directly upstairs and didn't see him, so I imagined he was in his room.

When I got to my room I placed my sword on the table, then started stripping. I got down to my bare minimum and flopped down onto the bed. Slowly, as everything still hurt, I crawled under the covers and laid my head down on the pillow.

"I love you bed." I groggily mumbled as I fell fast asleep.

**-X-**

"_Svegliarsi! Salvatore, svegliati!"_

"Uh?" I feel someone shaking me as I hear shouting. Sleepily, I open my eyes. Above me, for as far as I can see, there is nothing but dark sky and stars twinkling brightly. Slowly, as my brain begins to wake up, I try and remember why I was outside.

It's cold and I shiver. My head hurts and I groan as I move my arm to help me push myself up. My muscles ache in protest to the sudden movement, but I put the pain behind me.

When I'm a little more awake I look around. Everything is covered in darkness, the moon overhead covered by a cloud. I appear to be sitting in a field, or maybe a valley. The grass was rich, green, and beautiful. It swayed in the cold nipping wind. I shivered again as the rush went right through me.

As I try and put together where exactly I am I look over to my side. There's a man standing beside me, Assassin's robes adorning his body. When his eyes hit mine he breaths a sigh of relief.

"Grazie a Dio, I thought you were out for good." He utters, his voice thick with an Italian accent. "Maestro Ezio will be wondering where we are! We should get back to the Sanctuary, e farlo il più velocemente possibile." He says and all I do is blink at him.

"Um? Where are we?" I ask, my brain going slower than molasses. Everything was just completely off; I was feeling even worse then when I did while being held at Fort George.

The man gaps at me, then throws his hood back in exasperation as he begins to pace. I tilt my head to see his face, and I'm surprised by how handsome he is. He even looked a bit like Ezio, when he was young.

"Questo non è buono! Non va bene a tutti! Deve aver fatto male la testa durante la missione! Ezio non sarà felice di sentire questo!" He mutters hastily, as he begins to pace erratically.

I sigh, shaking my head, as I stand to the best of my ability. When I'm on my feet I wipe off what I now realize are my own Assassin robes. They're white and red and designed like the one's the apprentices wore in Brotherhood. I wonder then if that was where I was… in Rome.

"Ah! Excuse' mi!" I try my best to copy the man's Italian, but it comes out a bit rusty sounding. "We are in Rome? Si? On our way back from a mission?" I asked, going purely off a hunch.

The man looks back at me, his lips thinned out in discomfort. "Si, si." He nods quickly, walking back over to me. "You remember now Salvatore?"

"Uh…" I reply, a hand on my hip as I tilt a bit. I still felt off, wrong, but I was steadily getting over it. "The gist of it." I shrug, looking out to the grass, beyond the hill, where I see two horses tied down.

"Good enough sorella, good enough." He says, patting me on the shoulder as he passes, heading toward the horses.

Quickly, I trail after him.

I was bound to get some answers sooner or later.

_Right?_

**-X-**

We ride back to the Sanctuary together, side-by-side. Apparently, the man thought my name was Salvatore, and his name was Lupo. By the story he told me we were two Assassins' in training, out on our first mission, by the command of the Grand Master Ezio Auditore.

Something went a bit wrong though, and while we were fighting some brutes, I was knocked unconscious. Lupo then threw a smoke bomb and dragged me away from the fight. He let me sleep for a little while, but then woke me up when he decided we needed to head back.

But none of that answered why I had woken up in 16th century Rome! I fell asleep in 18th century America, thank you very much! It's not something you forget.

I was tired of being time's plaything.

We got to the Sanctuary as dawn rose. Lupo helped me down from my horse, like a gentlemen, and then told me to go ahead and go in. I nodded and headed inside.

The Sanctuary in Rome, to me, many times, felt like it was in the center of Brotherhood's map. It was surrounded on all sides by city, and then dropped off to where a small canal opened up.

Inside was just as beautiful, if not more so, in person as it was in the game. And as I walked in, Ezio was there at the front desk, hood down, writing something in a register. On the desk was a journal, and beside that a small chest.

When my eyes landed on the chest my heart skipped a beat. I don't know why or how, but I knew there was something very important inside that chest.

"Salvatore." Ezio called, his voice calm, calling, and deep. This Ezio was certainly not young Ezio, but he wasn't as old as he had been in Revelations either. And he was just a little bit older than he had been at the end of Brotherhood.

"Si?" I answered back, walking just those few steps closer to the desk.

Ezio yawns as he puts his quill down. He then looks up at me, his eyes groggy with exhaustion and lack of sleep.

"How did it go?" He asked coolly, keeping his gaze locked with mine.

"Um-"

"Oh! Maestro, I can explain!" Lupo came in suddenly and interrupted me, his voice fearful.

Ezio holds up a hand to silence him, and Lupo instantly shuts up. He then motions for me to continue.

"Uh," I stammer, trying to remember to do the accent and to stick to the story Lupo gave me. I wring my wrists and look up, smiling embarrassedly. "Not so good signore." I start, putting my hands at my sides. "I got knocked out… and Lupo drug me away and…." I stop and look away, trying to pull off shyness. "We failed."

Lupo, beside me, started over reacting a bit. He acted so ashamed, and was wailing about, I kind of wanted to slap him.

"It is alright." Ezio speaks up, grabbing both of our attentions. Gracefully, he gets up and walks around the desk, to stand in front of us. "The first time is always the hardest, you will do better next time." He says kindly, lightly smiling as he pats our shoulders.

"Oh grazie! Grazie!" Lupo says, and I imagine him kissing Ezio's hand as if he were a king. I try not to snigger, so to cover it up I cough.

"You are dismissed." Ezio says lightly, turning to walk back over to his desk. "Go get some rest."

Lupo bows before walking away, but when I go to leave I get called back.

"Not you Salvatore." Ezio calls, now sitting on his desk, staring at me drowsily.

I go rigid, stopping and freezing in place. Slowly, trying to do so as nonchalantly as possible, I turn back around to face him. Ezio calmly motions me to come further forward. I don't know why, but I wasn't too nervous, it was just Ezio, I knew I could trust him.

I get just a little bit further forward, and suddenly, Ezio reaches out to grab my collar. My reflexes have gotten sharper over the past few months, but I still wasn't fast enough to stop him.

Then, as Ezio's face was only centimeters away from mine, I felt his lips. Instantly, I stop struggling and turn off my brain as he gives me an impassioned kiss. His lips are warm and soft; I feel his tongue at my teeth as the centimeters melt away from in-between us.

I had no idea what was going on but I liked it!

My brain was slowly turning to mush as Ezio began to nip at my neck, right underneath my ear. I was breathing heavily by then, the room getting so hot.

And right as things were getting good, the chest on Ezio's desk began to glow. It caught both our attentions, and I glared at it hatefully, knowing then exactly what it was.

'_I swear to God Minerva! Just let me enjoy something for once damn it!'_

But the glow got too bright, and in a burst of white light, everything vanished.

**-X-**

"_Vittoria agli Assassini"_

"_Uccidete i bastardi Templari!"_

The scenery around me had changed. Now I'm in the midst of a battlefield. I hear the shouts of Italian Assassins, and the screams of pain from dying soldiers. All around me there is fighting, and from what I hear it's between the Templars and the Assassins.

The valley we occupy is half covered in fire, half covered in blood. Smoke bellows up and distorts my vision. I start violently coughing as the smoke fills my lungs. And then, suddenly, there's a clash beside me, between a French Templar soldier and Ezio.

By reflex, as things begin to settle in my mind, I reach for the long sword attached at my hip. I pull it from the sheath, and almost as if I was possessed, I begin to fight the soldier, taking his attention away from Ezio.

Everything feels as if I'm dreaming. I know what I'm doing, but I'm doing it far better then I ever could in real life. I block strike after strike from the Templar, and even when he tries to push back against my sword, I stand strong, as if I was made of stone.

Then I attack, and the Templar tries to counter, but I use my elbow to hit him, knocking him off balance before he can. I take the opening and strike his side, my blade sinks into his flesh, and blood begins to drip from his ribs.

I pull the sword back and the wound only gets larger, blood flowing like a stream out of his side. But even then the Templar did not stop, he attacked again and I swiftly countered his attack. And, this time, I took his head as if it were nothing.

Blood rains down from his neck and I end up getting covered in it, the white of my robes getting stained. In my victory I look over to Ezio, who is now fighting another Templar. I watch him and feel a pain in my heart, I don't know why but…

There's a pain in my stomach. I gasp at the sudden agony that shoots through me. I feel something warm and wet trickle down my body. Reluctantly, as my body goes completely rigid, I look down to see a sword going through my stomach.

The sword is yanked unceremoniously out of my body, and with nothing left to hold me up, I fall to my side. I grow weak quickly, my life's blood running out of me like a rapid river just to stain the ground.

"Salvatore!" I barely hear Ezio yell as I begin to die. I close my eyes, and moments later my body gets moved roughly. Sluggishly, I open my eyes and notice my head is in Ezio's lap and that he is crying. "Non morire! Non si può morire! C'è ancora così tanto ... Ti voglio bene!"

I don't understand anything he says and all I do is lay there, my eyelids getting heavier and heavier as the seconds pass.

"Non piangere mentore." I hear words come out of my mouth as I reach my hand up to touch the side of Ezio's face. I'm not the one talking though, yet I am. My lips move but I don't understand what I'm saying. Ezio takes the hand tenderly, holding it tightly. "Tu sei un uomo forte e bello. Potrai trovare qualcun altro, qualcuno migliore di me. Per favore, non lasciare che la vittoria Templari. Tu ci devi portare ... alla vittoria."

And, as that last word leaves my mouth, everything goes black and I die.

**-X-**

"AAAAHHHHH!" I shoot up into a sitting position after screaming. I'm sweating bullets yet I'm freezing cold. My teeth chatter and my body shivers. I wrap my arms around myself and tremble.

"_You have seen the truth."_

I gasp, surprised by the sudden noise. My head whips around and I finally notice that I am surrounded by nothing but darkness…. _again_. The markings of the Nexus the only light in what I imagined was a dream.

"What truth?" I yell into the blackness, my words echoing as I rocked back and forth.

"_Of your own past."_

She answers, but I don't know what she means. My brows furrow and my eyes narrow. Gears turn in my head as I think deeply about what Minerva has just said. "Do…" I begin to ask, unsure and hopeful that I wasn't right. "Do you mean that nightmare I just had, was my past?"

"_It was the past of your ancestor."_

I blanch at that and start shaking my head vigorously. "But, where I come from, Assassin's and Templars are just fiction!" I shout, not believing what she was saying.

"_But they are not. Your father was one of those who serve the cross."_

Suddenly, my heart stops. My eyes widen and I feel myself begin to shake even harder. "No, no, no, no, no!" I feel tears prick at my eyes, my emotional state still high from the dream.

"_He picked you to be his heir. But he was killed by an Assassin before he could reveal the truth to you."_

"NO! NO! NO!" I scream, curling up in a fetal position as the sobs start to become harder and harder.

"_The only thing that separates your time from this time is a decision that was made."_

I wrap myself up harder inside my own arms. The cold, it was slowly disabling my ability to move, slowly making me pliant to the words.

"_You were chosen, not just because of your knowledge, but for your lineage."_

My breathing is getting slower, the cold freezing my lungs.

"_Your bloodline stretches back to these American colonial colonies."_

My eyelids are getting heavy, and I can't feel my heartbeat anymore.

"_Your bloodline stretches back to the Kenway's."_

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead; May__26__th__, 1775._

All day long the dream plagues me, Minerva's words eat at me like a virus, and I don't feel like myself. I feel tired, sad, depressed. But I try my hardest to make sure Connor doesn't notice. I pretend as if everything was okay.

But then, I was used to doing that.

**-X-**

"Kyle!"

"Hmm?" I look up, startled out of my thoughts, to see Connor glaring down at me.

"Pay attention!" He barks, upset that I kept checking out while he was trying to show me the proper way to attack.

I shake my head and try to ignore the words that kept bouncing around inside my skull.

"_Your bloodline stretches back to the Kenway's."_

"_Your bloodline stretches back to the Kenway's."_

"_**Your bloodline stretches back to the Kenway's."**_

But it was harder than I thought.

It was mid afternoon and we were back at Big Dave's, practicing swordsmanship again. We had been at it for at least a few hours and my aches and pains from earlier were only getting worse.

'_Okay, concentrate! I have to focus!'_ I shout at myself, slapping my cheeks a bit to wake myself up.

With a deep calming inhale, I took a half step back, and steadied myself. I dug my heels into the dirt, and adjusted my grip on the wooden sword. Off to the side, Big Dave watched silently.

When I was ready I looked to Connor and nodded to him. Connor nodded back and prepared himself. The two of us ready, we began the sixth practice round of the day.

Connor's strike was fast, almost coming out of nowhere. But my dodge was faster. On my heels I turned, using my stick to block Connor's attack. Swiftly, while still holding back his strike, I sidestepped.

Connor jumps back as I do, leaving himself open. I parry forward when I see I have the chance. Just centimeters from my stick hitting his chest, Connor strikes out, nearly knocking the weapon from my hand. But my grip is strong, and my glove takes most of the impact.

And while Connor's weapon was still close I grabbed it, and then countered by hitting him in the gut with my elbow. This winds him a bit, but not enough to take him down. I have to jump back to avoid his next strike.

On the toes of my boots I twist around his attack, dodging it with ease and grace. Using the momentum from the dodge, I spin a second time. Now I'm behind Connor and he's completely unprotected.

I strike his back and he groans. It's a bit of revenge for me, as he certainly hadn't been taking it easy on me this whole time.

I feel like I'm in the zone, my element, as I dodge his parries and counter his strikes. The feeling is different from yesterday, as yesterday I could barely do any of this, let alone do it gracefully.

Connor swiftly goes in for another blow while I try to soak up my small victory. But instead of hitting me, our sticks clash like real swords. He tries to lean his weight onto my weapon, but my feet are rooted too heavily to the ground, and I don't budge an inch.

Instantly, a déjà vu moment washes over me. This was just like when Salvatore clashed with the French Templar as she tried to protect Ezio. A realization dawned on me then. _'Is this… the bleeding effect?'_

As I'm distracted Connor goes in for the kill, pulling back the stick to take the final blow. But my heartbeat quickens, my pulse racing, I feel that reflex coming in to play again.

The strike comes down, but I take the attack to my blade, twisting it underneath my arm, I pulled the sword out of his grip. And in the last moment, before anyone can breathe, I go for the throat.

_Like a wolf._

But I stop myself as I realize Connor is disarmed. The end of my stick is at his neck, and he's looking down at me, shocked.

"Um," I put the stick down and innocently pulled the hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. "Maybe we could practice something else now."

Connor only nods in reply.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead; May__27__th__, 1775._

The dream still bugs me, but training keeps it from my mind. So I train harder than ever before. I concentrate on what Connor is teaching me, and focus on that alone. I try to become a true Assassin… even if my father had been a Templar.

**-X-**

Learning to throw knives is kind of like playing darts. At first, Connor sets up a still target for me to throw at. And I have to take on step back every time I get the knife dead square and center.

Then we test out my aim on moving targets like deer and raccoons. Fortunately, I am an excellent dart player. My aim, due to earlier training with my dad, which I don't really want to think about right now, is impeccable.

I continue to practice for a while, even though I'm already pretty good. But I still get better as time goes by. Even to the point where I can hit a running rabbit, from a tree branch, fifteen feet away.

I was still a better shot with my bow though.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead; May__30__th__, 1775._

Stealth and blending in are the next set of exercises we do. I point out that we should go to the city to practice them, but Connor says learning stealth skills here would be easier. He says once he believes I'm good enough he'll allow me to hone my tailing skills in the city.

I supposed that was good enough for me.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead; June 7__th__, 1775._

Another week passes, training continued on as usual. We were practicing all sorts of things now, and every day I'd come back to the manor with new bruises. But I was getting better, quicker; with the most stamina I've ever had in my life. Still, we weren't anywhere near done yet. It took Connor three years of training before Achilles named him an Assassin. I'd only been training for a few months.

I could climb buildings pretty decently now, but still not as well as I could climb trees. I was better with a sword as well, but that moment when I beat Connor ended up being a fluke, I couldn't do it again. Doing the Leap of Faith was a bit easier too, but it was hard getting rid of my reluctance to jump.

To me it seemed like my progress was going so slow. Yet Connor said I was learning pretty quickly. But there was still _SO_ much to learn!

Thankfully, now that I was back to training hard, I could shower under the waterfall again. No more rusty tubs for me, _no sir!_

But today, when I came downstairs for training, Connor was getting ready to leave. I didn't know why, but I was pretty determined to find out.

"Connor!" I shouted just as I jumped down the last step of the stairs. Connor stood in front of the door, his hand on the knob. He stops and looks to me as he hears my voice. "Where are you going?"

Connor's hood is down and I can't see his eyes, making me feel uneasy. "To visit my village." He replies coolly, believing there was nothing wrong with his actions.

"Oh." I nodded as he said this, feeling a bit disappointed. I always looked forward to training; it was usually all I had to do. But I sincerely enjoyed it.

"We will continue training when I return." He explains, almost as if he had read my mind.

My shoulders slump and I sigh. "Okay." I felt almost like I was pouting. But I don't pout, not ever!

There's a silent pause, with no tension attached. Connor hasn't moved, and I watch him, I can almost hear the gears in his head turning.

"Would you like to come with me?" He asks, coming over to put a hand on my shoulder. As I look up I can see into his eyes, they're dark and shrouded, but warm and kind all at the same time.

I nod happily, feeling a smile slide onto my face. "Yeah."

**-X-**

I had to ask Achilles if I could go though, before we left. He was in his study when I went to ask him and he was more than happy to let me. He said that I deserved a break, training too hard for too long wasn't good on a person, let alone their muscles.

So I packed, and I did so as lightly as possible. Connor mentioned he was planning on staying for a few days, and I was happy to stay with him. And I packed for just that, a few days.

When I was ready, we headed out. And as we rode through the forest, I realized this was the first time I'd ever rode side by side with Connor.

**-X-**

_Mohican Tribal Grounds; June 7__th__, 1775._

It was beginning to get dark when we came upon the village. As we did I began to think about the things I hadn't before hand. I wondered if the people of Connor's village might hate me, since… well…. you know. Since I wasn't a member of their tribe.

I was anxious when I dismounted from Noir and grabbed her reins to walk the rest of the way. But, almost immediately, as we entered the village, a group of children ran up to me and oowed and awed at my horse. They started shouting things excitedly in their native tongue.

All I could do was laugh and smile, nod and act friendly. I had no idea what they were saying, so I was kind of freaking out a little bit.

That's when Connor walks up; his horse behind him, and he speaks to the children. With a smile on his face, he kneeled down and spoke to them, only once did I hear my name, but the rest of the time I didn't know what he was saying either. I felt like I was back in Spanish class again, and my teacher was expecting me to understand everything she had just said to me.

All the children go _ooh_ and nod their heads, understanding exactly what Connor had been saying to them. They start laughing as Connor stands, pulling his hood back. All I do is blink and watch from afar.

"Miss," I feel something tugging on my shirt and I look down to see a little girl. Her dark hair is in braids and her eyes are a honey color. She's adorable and her smile is bright. "Your horse is pretty." She says, her thick accent tripping up the English words a bit, but not so much so that I couldn't understand her.

I smile warmly down at her, trying to be friendly. "Thank you."

After I say that she giggles and runs off, back to her village. All the other children run after her, and two of them jump down from Connor's shoulders, as they had apparently been trying to tackle him to the ground.

I look over to Connor as the children disappear from his sight. In his eyes I see sadness, longing, and loneliness, but in his smile I see a glow of joy from seeing his home again.

A pain stabs at my heart when I see this, and I look away, back to the beautiful village, as I let Connor grieve silently by my side.

**-X-**

The village is a busy place, even during the dead of night. Peace only settles over the chaos of children and animals when night turns to dark dreary early morning. Both Connor and I are still awake when silence passes over all.

Earlier, when we had both entered the village, the Clan Mother of Connor's tribe greeted us. The woman was old, with a deep and intense light to her eyes, as if she had seen so much in her long years. Her gaze nearly knocks me off my feet, but I steady myself quickly.

I try to greet her using the vocabulary that Connor had taught me, but instead I screw the words up, and say something rather funny. At least, Connor and the Clan Mother thought it was amusing, but no matter how many times I asked, Connor wouldn't tell me what I had said.

I was rather welcome among the tribe. As soon as Connor had used the word khe'kén:'a; everyone visibly relaxed in my presence. This tribe trusted Connor so much, that just him saying I was his sister made them trust me too.

After that I tried extra hard not to screw anything up. I wouldn't want to mess with the tribe's trust in Connor; I knew soon enough they'd need it.

But now it was late and I was bone-dead tired. I stayed by Connor's side though, as he spoke to the others around the campfire. Most of them couldn't speak in English, and for a while Connor would translate what they were saying for me, but soon enough I told him to not worry about it. I was too drained to keep up anyway.

Connor had a lot to tell his Clan Mother, or so I deduced, since he was talking to her for such a long time. And I tried to stay awake, but it was warm in front of the fire, and it was so peaceful in the village. I couldn't help it when I began to tilt, leaning into Connor's side, and fell asleep.

**-X-**

_Mohican Tribal Grounds; June 8__th__, 1775._

I woke up that morning in one of the tents, Connor asleep next to me. I watched him, as creepy as it sounds, for a while while he slept. His expression was just so tranquil, not so harsh and serious like it usually was, as his eyes were closed. It was kind of mesmerizing.

But when Connor awoke I pretended to be asleep, so that he wouldn't know I had been watching him. And he gets us up early so that we can join the morning hunting party. I'm fine with that; I had even brought some throwing knives with me to practice with.

**-X-**

We bring in a good bit of meat, and the people of the village thank me for my help. That day, we had brought in so much, in fact, that everyone got seconds. I'm happy to have helped, and I say as much.

After eating Connor and me ride around for a bit, some of Connor's old friends joining us. I feel a bit left out as Connor speaks with his friends. I don't feel jealous or anything, I just start to feel like I'm butting in where I shouldn't. I try to ignore the feeling but it just continues to nag at me.

It makes me remember my old friends that I'd probably never see again.

**-X-**

We go through several activities through out the day, most I can't follow. They have so much history behind them; it'd take me such a long time to even understand them, let alone engage in them. So for most of the day I stay on the sidelines, just watching.

**-X-**

When we sit beside the fire again that night, the Clan Mother calls me something that I know I've heard before.

_Ga Okwaho._

I, for the life of me, can't remember where I've heard that before. I know for a fact okwaho is wolf, but when I ask the Clan Mother what it all means she just says:

"Its you destiny, child."

Connor looks pretty surprised to hear this, but doesn't comment on it. So, for the umpteenth time that day, I feel left out and confused.

**-X-**

_Mohican Tribal Grounds; June 10__th__, 1775._

We go through the motions for two more days, and then I practically burst.

We're inside a tent that night, as it's storming outside. The rain is pouring down and the thunder is roaring. It sounds like a wild animal is out there, trying to rip its way into our shelter. And every time lightning strikes I can feel it, it filters through the darkness and makes the night look like day.

And sometime before dusk, a beautiful tribal girl my age sits beside Connor, and literally fawns all over him. But Connor acts as if he doesn't even notice.

As I watch this something inside me begins to heat, like I was what was on fire. I grit my teeth and try to keep breathing calmly. My entire body is going on over drive and I don't understand why. Was I jealous of this girl? Or was I jealous of Connor?

The whole situation made me think of how things had been back home. How I had never been able to get a boyfriend, and how I had craved that kind of companionship. Let alone how I had craved sex. But I wasn't like other girls; I wanted someone loyal, someone who was my friend just as much as a boyfriend.

But, using that reasoning, I had gained six guy pals, which practically became like brothers to me, instead of a boyfriend. Not that I would have that any other way but… I still desperately craved that type of companionship.

Seeing this girl reminded me of that. Already, this week, I had been reminded of my friends and how much I missed them. Now I was being reminded of something I can never have.

And thinking of friends only leads to thoughts of home. Thoughts of home lead to thoughts of my family. Thoughts of my family lead to thoughts of how little I missed the messed up thing I had called a life. Thoughts of my life make me think of how my piss poor piece of shit father had actually been a Templar MY WHOLE LIFE AND I HADN'T EVEN KNOWN!

When I take the deepest breath of my life and look over to see Connor, I get greeted with something I really hadn't expected.

That girl was kissing Connor! And Connor was kissing back!

I couldn't hold the heat in any longer after that. So, I did as I usually do when I feel an anger spasm coming on. I tried to, as calmly as possible, not storm out of the tent and into the dark, cold, storming night. What I tried not to do though, is what I did.

"_Your bloodline stretches back to the Kenway's."_

"_Your bloodline stretches back to the Kenway's."_

"_**Your bloodline stretches back to the Kenway's."**_

"SHUT UP!" I screamed at the sky as lightning struck. Luckily I was outside of the village by then, and hopefully no one had heard me.

I ended up a good bit away from the village when I had to sit down. I had marched a long way, and now that I was drenched in cold wet rain; I had calmed down a bit. Or at least some, I had calmed down some.

I just didn't understand why I was so upset. I couldn't be in love with Connor, right? Connor was my brother, Connor was my family. It felt more like I was jealous of him in some way.

It felt more like I was angry at my own aloneness.

Connor had such a big family here, with his people; they all loved him and respected him, girls even adored him. But my family, the one I'd left behind?

Well, as you know, my father was a drunken son of a bitch Templar. My mother was a work alcoholic who didn't even know I existed. My brother was an anti-social emo who hated my guts. And don't even get me started on my stepfather.

Those, those were some very important reasons why I wasn't in a hurry to get home.

Here, here I had Achilles, Connor, Ellen, Mary, Dave, Myriam, Norris, Prudence, Terry, Godfrey, Faulkner, Lance, Lyle, and Warren. Here I had a family, but….

I sighed; maybe I should stop thinking about that. Maybe I was whining too much. Like usual I was only making myself more upset while thinking in circles. I just needed to stop thinking altogether.

"Khe'kén:'a!" When I hear Connor's voice shouting over the storm, I look up. There, standing in front of me, drenched and despondent looking was my tsi'a.

I smile sadly up at him, and finally feel the silent tears I hadn't even known I'd cried. I see it in his then, truly, the reflection of our sorrows. The sadness of the loss of his mother, the loneness he feels from the lack of her presence, and the dark betrayal he feels because of his father. In my own heart, I felt those same things.

"Tsi'a." I whisper, walking over to him calmly. I try to keep my cool; I try to play off the tears.

But none of that mattered in the end.

Because, in the middle of that storm, with both of us drenched and warm tears on my cheeks. Connor hugged me; it was with a desperate grip that he put his face in the crook of my neck. He cradled me gently, and as hard as I tried, I couldn't stop the sobs and the tears that came flowing out onto Connor's shoulders.

And after that night, I felt something dark vanish from inside of me.

I felt closure.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead; June 16__th__, 1775._

We head back to Davenport after that night. In the morning we leave and the Clan Mother tells me I can visit again whenever I liked. But before we left, she whispers something in my ear. She asks me to protect Ratohnhaké:ton and to be there for him.

I don't know about _me_ protecting _him_, but I promise her I will.

Another week passes, with training starting back up from where we left it. I enjoy the training even more now then before, and I feel even more focused.

But after that week passes Connor prepares to leave…. for the Battle of Bunker Hill. He wishes to find Putnam and to discover the location of John Pitcairn. I know that's what he's going to do, but this time he won't be alone.

"I want to come with you!" I yell, stopping Connor dead in his tracks.

He's at the door, about to leave me again, when he hears me. And just like before, he turns around, and suddenly latches onto me. Connor's headlock is just as tight, if not as stone solid, as last time.

"You can come," He says into my ear. "If you can escape."

I smile slyly and pull my leg forward, just to swiftly push it back. The force of my heel takes Connor completely by surprise and knocks him off me. His back ends up hitting the ground, as he lies there, shocked.

_I don't climb trees and run laps for nothi'n, kitties!_

"Okay," He rasps out, grinning proudly. "You can come."

**-X-**

**End Note: **_Oh boy, three days of non-stop writing and finally I'm done! Even if I don't post this as soon as I'm finished, I got it done three days after I posted the last chapter. And I did it all for you guys! I hope this update was soon enough. ^_^_

_I even started chapter 6 already! But, once again, I don't know when I'll finish it. Maybe in three days like this chapter, maybe in three weeks. Just know that I am working on it._

_Also, I'm a bit worried about how you guys will react to Salvatore. She's probably only going to turn up one more time, and only so I can really point out that Kyle is not related to Ezio or Altair but she is related to Edward, Haytham, and Connor. And, if you guys want, I'll write in a chapter explaining how._

_But whatever you do, don't go looking for the translation of any of that Italian! Most of it, near Salvatore's death, is extremely cheesy!_

_And really, her dad being a Templar was a sudden idea; I don't know where that came from. I just thought it would be the easiest way to point out that Assassin's and Templars existed in her time too even though the game does as well. That's not too much, is it?_

_Getting the dialogue for the next chapter was a pain in my arse! Just saying. I had to pause the game every five seconds so that I could take down the subtitles. So when you read chapter 6 I hope you understand that almost all the dialogue between Connor and Putnam will be directly from the game. I don't know why no one's put up a transcript of AC 3 yet, but I guess I'll be making one of my own._

_Luckily, my idea for Bridewell prison allows me some leeway with the dialogue collection._

_Anyway, thanks for reading!_

_**Please R&R!**_


	6. The Battle of Kyle's Hill

**Author's Note: **_Yeah, another chapter with actual history facts! Also, this chapter feels a bit lack luster to me. When I wrote up the notes for this chapter something very different happened. But when I wrote it and this came out instead. I don't know, what do you guys think?_

**FYI: **_I actually had to do a lot of research for this chapter, and there are no OCs, except Kyle of course, involved. Believe it or not but all the following characters your about to read about, also excluding Connor, were real people._

_**Special thanks to: **__Everyone who reviewed, favorited, followed, and read last chapter! You guys are why I do this!_

_Sassiersphinx81: __Thank you! I'll try my best! ^_^_

_Fox Mew Brittany: __I'm hoping my future plot twists will be as interesting to you as they are to me. But the Templar thing was actually a sudden idea, but it kinda fit didn't it? You just wait, you only know half of Salvatore's relationship to Ezio. This chapter will reveal the other half. I'll just tell you now, nothing is as it seems. XD_

_Alpha Lima One: __-Begins eating the pizza- Thank you! Glad you like the story thus far. I hope none of my future chapters disappoint! I hope I get this chapter out soon enough to satisfy you. Also, I appreciate the love and the pizza! ^_^_

_Portrait of a Scribe: __Told 'ya it was cheesy. It was really an in the moment thing, kinda sorta. -_-' I'm glad you liked it though. No, from where this is going so far Kyle will not be with Connor. They mean too much to each other to think that way of one another. I will, however, give Kyle a chance to have romantic feelings with someone. Promise! And her lineage is actually a little complicated, but you'll see._

_He's a Templar, hate totally justified now. I'm in complete agreement with you on that one. ^_^ And, with the YouTube thing, I think I'll have to do that. Some of the cut scenes don't replay with the DNA tracker, so I'll have too._

_Thank you, and I hope to talk to you again soon! ^_^_

_Lureln_

_MoonCaller_

_Assassin Lin_

_Madman2014_

_Python3921_

_Artaddict15: __Sorry to confuse. But Kyle still thinks Connor is attractive, but slowly as the story goes, Connor and Kyle's brother and sister bond begins to strengthen. Last chapter was probably the last chapter Kyle will ever mention her hormones while dealing with Connor. I will however, be giving Kyle a romantic interest._

_Praetorianwarrior_

_Flametile_

**New Author's Note:**_ I just want to say a HUGE thank you to all those who followed, favorited, and reviewed! I couldn't keep up with all of them but each and every single one of then mean the world to me, so thank you!_

**-X-**

**_Revolutionary Tactics_**

**Chapter 6: **_The Battle of Kyle's Hill_

_Breed's; June 17__th__, 1775._

"This is not Bunker Hill."

"Aye. It's Breed's. There's been some… disagreement as to where we should encamp."

The horse ride was a bit rough as we trotted down the trail. Connor seemed a bit upset that we weren't exactly where he thought we would be. But, baby steps, we had to start somewhere.

Our search for John Pitcairn, as you've probably guessed, has led us to Breed's instead of Bunker Hill. After a day's ride from the Homestead, we found ourselves meeting up with one of the scout's of the patriot army.

"Any news from Boston?" Connor asked, an edge to his voice as we rode past a lake on the trail.

"The Tories aren't moving. And anytime we try to press them, we lose a dozen men. I think Putnam and the others plan to assemble artillery on these hills. A good shelling might make the Redcoats rethink their strategy." The Scout replies proudly, more than happy to think of killing more Redcoats, giving them a taste of their own medicine.

"And what of John Pitcairn?" Connor intones, very interested in getting the information he craved.

I sighed. You could clearly hear the obsession in Connor's voice, if you were listening for it anyway. But instead of butting in, I just stayed deathly silent and followed closely behind the Master Assassin.

"That bastard is the cagiest of the bunch. He's appeared, time to time, to taunt us or send regards by way of cannon fire. It's all right, though. He'll have what's coming to him soon enough." The Scout replies, a smile to his voice.

I rolled my eyes. _'We can only hope.'_

We ride for at least ten more minutes on horseback, down the trail, through the trees. The three of us end up passing a few streams as we go, but we pass far more wounded rebel soldiers than we do even trees. They litter the trail, most hiding, and some trying to flee with broken limbs.

It was a disastrous sight, all the blood and the dead. But it's nothing compared to what I saw at Concord. Back then most of the one's who littered the streets were innocents, killed in the crossfire. And then in Lexington, it was almost like a slaughter.

The stench is still sickening, the smell of cold metallic copper everywhere. I still feel unsettled by it, but after everything I've seen, I feel oddly calm. Almost as if all the killing wasn't affecting me as much anymore. It was like I was beginning to get used to it.

'_Eh. Just remember, you're hands aren't so squeaky clean anymore either.'_

Suddenly, I hear my father's voice in my head, as we begin to ride up hill. When I do I feel my heart skip a beat, my skin getting sweaty as the air around me becomes hot and humid. I couldn't stand that feeling, like he was still there, looking over my shoulder.

_Like he was proud._

"Kyle?"

I hear Connor's voice and realize that I had stopped; my horse was standing still at the bottom of the hill. I take a deep breath and shake my head as my skin begins to cool off. Being around so much death was bringing back bad _bad_ memories.

But Connor's voice helped, feeling Connor's eyes on me helped, and riding beside Connor helped. Just knowing Connor was there helped. It kept my thoughts focused; it gave me the ability to concentrate.

So, when I looked back up at Connor I gave him a _I'm-fine_ smile and started riding forward again. This, however, was not good enough for Connor. I knew he could see right through me, and ever since that night in the storm he'd been keeping a closer eye on me.

Knowing that made me feel both safer and uneasy. I was okay with that though, I could handle that.

At least, I hoped so.

On the top of that hill was an encampment. It was, what felt like, a large foxhole surrounded by sand bags and sharp pieces of wood. On every side there were soldiers with rifles at the ready, in the center there were injured and supplies lying around.

It looked like a complete mess, to be honest.

The Scout suddenly stops his horse and we stop beside him. "Putnam's just up ahead, you can't miss him." He points out and then turns his horse around to promptly ride away.

Connor dismounts almost immediately after The Scout points us to Putnam. And the Master Assassin leaves me to tie both my horse and his to a post. I try and do that as quickly as possible, while also tying the reins securely.

"I don't care much for your excuses gentlemen. We should be building on Bunker Hill. Breed's is closer to the city, but it is also closer to their artillery!"

I heard what I imagined to be a very ticked off General Israel Putnam shouting at probably Artemas Ward. Because, if you didn't know, Ward was the whole reason why this garrison of soldiers was at Breed's instead of Bunker Hill to begin with.

The story is: On the night of June 16, 1775, a detail of American troops acting under orders from ARTEMAS WARD moved out of their camp, carrying picks, shovels, and guns. They entrenched themselves on a rise located on Charleston Peninsula overlooking Boston. Their destination: BUNKER HILL.

From this hill, the rebels could bombard the town and British ships in Boston Harbor. But Ward's men misunderstood his orders. They went to BREED'S HILL by mistake and entrenched themselves there — closer to the British position.

And that's the gist of it.

"Our orders came from men so divorced from the situation, we are compelled by reason to employ our own faculties to make a proper determination. Were that I could understand even HALF that nonsense you just uttered…"

Over the shooting, the canon fire, and the screams of dying men, Putnam's voice rang out above it all. His shouting was just so boisterous…. _Yesh_, I'm just glad he's not my commanding officer.

I tug on the reins one more time before running over to join Connor. He was waiting for me by the sand dune entrance of the pathetic dug out fort. Together, side-by-side, we head towards where we can hear Putnam creating such a commotion.

"What's not to understand? I'm trying to ensure our victory!" I can hear Ward's voice now, yelling at Putnam's arrogance.

As Connor and I walk farther into the camp I begin to see more and more wounded men. Some are even lying down beside what looked like it was once a bon fire. But now it was nothing more than a few burnt sticks.

"What would you know about victory? I killed a she-wolf in her den armed with only a knife. I escaped the Caughnawaga Indians, who sought to burn me alive. And I was the sole survivor of a shipwreck during the Battle of Havana. So you will excuse me if I choose not to follow your advice."

When I hear Putnam say that I flinch. I look up to Connor and go rigid; worried he might be insulted by what Israel had just said. But the Native American's face is completely blank, no emotion in sight.

He was either hiding it or he truly didn't care.

As we walk closer I begin to see Putnam amongst the masses. The General stands on the highest point of the fort, surrounded by other soldiers. He pushes some out of his way as he begins to stride toward us, and we advance towards him.

A split second later, before I can even blink, let alone move, a canon ball flies right past me, just two inches away from hitting my arm. It strikes the man who was standing behind me, right in his side, and sends him flying back. He screams at the top of his lungs, surprised and in pain.

Putnam goes to stand over the dying man after he lands, a big cigar in his mouth, and a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"I rest my case." He says as calmly and as matter-of-factly as physically possible while standing over a now dead man. Putnam then turns sharply on his heel and begins to walk away. "I'm going back to Bunker Hill. Good-day, gentlemen." He waves, his tone like steel as he marches away.

Connor and I look at each other, unease in both of our gazes. I wince, and wring my wrists as Connor launches himself after Putnam. Reluctantly, I trail after him.

"General Putnam?" Connor calls, catching up with the man in question.

"What?" He growls, turning to glare down at my tsi'a_._

Protectively, as a partner-in-arms should, I go to stand beside Connor. Giving him my full support. I knew he really didn't need it, but I was making up for the mistakes I had already made, I was going to show him that he could trust me again.

"I'm looking for John Pitcairn. I was told you'd be able to help me find him." Connor explains, standing his ground against the general's scrutiny.

Putnam narrows his eyes and looks Connor in the face. Something flashes in his stare, but he doesn't say anything. Then, for the first time, he looks at me and his brow rises. He seems confused to see me, but not shocked.

He shrugs off the looks and relaxes, blowing cigar smoke into both my face and Connor's. I nearly hack up a lung coughing on the billows, Connor; however, stays completely blank faced.

"He's tucked away inside the city with no reason to leave. So long as that ship continues its assault, we'll never flush him out." Putnam points out past the fort, through the forest, and onto Boston Harbor. Where there are three British ships firing directly at us.

I noisily wince, again. _'Oh my grandma, what big ships you have; all the better to blow you to smithereens with, my dear.'_ After that thought I pause, an embarrassed silence filling my mind. Two seconds later, I slap myself in the face_. 'Oh my God, I did not just think that. I did, didn't I? Boy, I need a vacation.' _I heavily sighed and massaged my temples as a headache was beginning to eat away at me. The sounds of screaming, shooting, and canon fire certainly didn't help.

"But if the ship was silenced…" Connor began to imply, and my head whipped over to him as he did. My eyes widened as I looked at him, then at the battlefield, then back again.

If he went out there to stop those ships he'd have to go through Boston, which, by the way, if you didn't know, WAS BEING SHELLED RIGHT NOW! It was suicide on a platter! A very big, dangerous, suicidal platter!

God, I wished Isaac was still alive.

"…Then poor John might be forced to get off his arse and come forward!" Putnam answers, a bit of gleefulness in his voice. He puffs out another cloud of smoke, and arches a brow at Connor's proposal. But Connor, most assuredly, had his full attention now.

Connor then looks around, and now it's my turn to be confused. He quickly catches sight of what he's looking for, and picks up a flag from off of the ground. It's sandy, covered in grit and mud, and its colors are bleakly faded. The flag itself had certainly seen better days.

"I shall fly this flag to signal my success." He states confidently, and I blanch at him.

Suddenly, I was beginning to feel nauseous with worry. I knew exactly what Connor was about to go do, and that he would be fine. But… that doesn't stop the horrible thoughts of what could happen from filling my mind. The worst thing was though; that I knew there was nothing I could do to stop him.

"And I shall speak fondly of you at your funeral." Putnam says sarcastically, disbelieve practically oozing out of his voice. For that, I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying anything unsavory towards the man.

Connor begins to leave then, but before he can I grab his arm, desperately, tightly. "Be careful tsi'a." I whisper, looking into his eyes, practically trying to see into his thoughts.

Connor smirks under the hood, his eyes lightly shrouded, but still aglow. "You as well khe'kén:'a."

And after that I release the bone crushing grip I had on him, and I let him run off, towards the harbor, praying that he would be okay.

**-X-**

On the Charlestown Peninsula on the North side of Boston Harbor….

Boston was being besieged by thousands of American militia. The British were trying to keep control of the city and control its valuable seaports. The British decided to take two hills, Bunker and Breeds, in order to gain a tactical advantage. The American forces heard about it and went to defend the hills.

With the outbreak of the war General Gage, the British commander in chief, found himself blockaded in Boston by the American Continental Army, occupying the hills to the West of the city. Gage resolved to seize the Charlestown peninsula across the harbor. Before he could act, on the night of 16th June 1775 around 1,500 American troops of the Massachusetts regiments and Putnam's Connecticut regiment occupied Breed's Hill and Bunker Hill on the peninsula. The American troops began to build a redoubt on Breed's Hill. The fortification was complete by the morning, after a night of frenzied work. The presence of the Americans on the peninsula was observed by His Majesty's Ship Lively, which opened fire on them.

Plans were hurriedly put in motion by the British to attack the Americans and drive them from their position. Major General Howe, one of the three generals sent from Britain to assist General Gage, was given the command. While the preparations were in progress, the Americans extended their fortifications from the redoubt to the seashore, to prevent a flank attack. More American troops gathered on Bunker Hill but few of them could be persuaded to move to the forward positions on Breed's Hill.

Howe landed with his force on the southern shore of the peninsular and directed the light infantry to attack the section of American line at the seashore. Gage and Howe would have been well advised to have landed in the rear of the American position. It is likely that the British senior officers discounted the ability of the American troops to resist a frontal attack and overestimated the ability of their own troops to make one.

The light infantry column was repelled with heavy casualties. General Howe then launched a frontal assault on the redoubt with the main body of his troops. This attack was driven back with heavy loss, in spite of an American shortage of ammunition. During the attack the British left wing suffered from the fire of Americans in the town of Charlestown and the town was set ablaze.

The attacks should have been preceded by a bombardment from the field artillery but it was found that the 6 pounder guns had been supplied with 12 pounder balls.

A second attack was then launched along the length of the American entrenchments and was again driven back with heavy loss.

A final attack was made, concentrating on the redoubt and center of the American position. The American ammunition was all but exhausted and this final assault carried the redoubt, forcing the Americans to retreat and leave the peninsula. They were not vigorously pursued.

Or so the history books had said, but something told me today, as the dawn broke through the clouds, that things would be little bit different. Today history would be changed, whether for better or for worse was yet to be seen.

**-X-**

Finding General Putnam again was not hard. All I had to do was head toward where I heard the loudest shouting. I made my way swiftly through crowds of soldiers, some getting more ammunition, others grabbing bandages where they could.

It was all just so chaotic inside the fort.

'_That's what war is, kiddo, chaos.'_

I shook my head again as my father's voice echoed inside my skull. Try as I might, but every single time I pushed his memory away he'd just come back ten times stronger. And the atmosphere wasn't helping!

"General!" I called to the man, having had lost him earlier. But now, as I stood in front of him, I had his attention. In turn he looked over at me and eyed me up and down.

"Ah! The young woman from this morning." He addressed me as he looked back down at the tactical map in front of him. "Shouldn't you be fetching supplies, or something of the matter?" He said dryly, his tone sounding as if he was not at all concerned with taking me seriously.

I huffed, but bite my tongue again from saying anything insulting. "I came to give you something." I explained, my hand going to the holsters at my hip. He looked back up at me then, and I took a deep breath as I unclasped the dual pistols from around my waist.

In a way, this was just another form of closure for me. Training to become an Assassin had lead me to Isaac and then our meeting had lead to his death. But now, now I was handing over the last part of him I had left. I was giving him up, letting go of his memory.

_I was keeping my promise._

Slowly, gently, I held out the holsters for Putnam. He looked down at them forlornly, something dark and sad in his eyes. I knew he knew, and now Isaac's death was official for him too.

"He…" I had to take another deep breath and clear my throat. "He said to tell you that…. That he won." A lump was forming in my throat, I tried to swallow it down but it wasn't working.

"Yes," Putnam nodded sorrowfully. "Yes he did… _the bastard_."

**-X-**

It took me a few minutes to collect myself, my promise kept, my mission done. Now, now I had to be the Assassin I was trained to be. I had to help! There had to be something I could do!

"Ah! Shit!"

_That's close enough!_

Hearing the curse like it was a sign from God, I glided over to an injured soldier near the trenches, the same one who had uttered it. His arm was badly bleeding, his rifle lying in his lap. On my way over to him I found some bandages strewn out. I don't know why bandages would be out in the middle of the fort, but really that just proved how disorganized everything was.

"Hey," I called out to him. He looked up at me as I did, a trickle of blood slowly sliding down his head and over his right eye. "Hold still." I ordered, kneeling down by his side to shake out the dirt from the bandages.

"Who are you?" He asked cautiously, his voice shaky and pain filled. He sounded like he didn't trust me, and acted as such when he flinched away from my hands.

I looked at him then, trying to win over his trust with my gaze. His eyes were a deep _deep_ blue color, like the ocean. His hair was dusty blond, with a military cut to it. That face, his face, was young. He might have even been a year younger than me. But most of all, he was scared, frankly he looked terrified.

His face was almost like a mirror, for how I looked back in Concord.

"I'm Kyle." I reassured him, gently patting his shoulder, the arm that wasn't wounded anyway. "I'm here to help." And with that I began to unwind the bandages, taking long strands and wrapping them around his bleeding arm.

"I'm…" He stuttered, his teeth chattering as if he was freezing cold. "I'm Peter, Peter Brown." The boy replied in kind, allowing me to get closer.

I smile warmly at him, trying to calm him down some. "Nice to meet you Pete." I say as I finish wrapping up Peter's arm. I wind it up as tightly as I can, and I make sure no blood leaks through the bandages before going on to his head wound.

Peter winces as I touch the back of his head; I determine then that he had been grazed by a bullet on both his upper left arm and the right side of his skull. The poor guy was definitely in some pretty bad pain; it was to the point where he was breathing through his teeth.

I knew exactly how he felt.

As the two of us stayed down, Peter mostly lying against the outer sand dunes of the entrenchment, me kneeling beside him, the war waged on.

"So," I started as I began to wrap up Peter's cranium. "Tell me about yourself."

"W-what?" Peter looked back up at me, his pupils blown wide. He had begun to _check out _as I tended to his injuries, his gaze far off and distant.

"Tell…me…about…yourself." I say slowly, annunciating as his blown eyes followed my bobbing head like it was the bouncing ball.

"Um…uh…" He's shaking his head now, and I have to hold his chin so he won't. It's not exactly easy dressing a head wound when the head won't be still. Peter just keeps stuttering, his eyes everywhere, head sweating, as he tried to gather his thoughts into coherence. "I'm… I'm seventeen." He utters, his pupils beginning to look normal again, not as glassy as before. "I live… I live north of Boston Harbor."

When he says this I look up. Beyond the sand dunes, past the hill, and over to Boston, the north was being shelled. By now his home was probably nothing but shredded bits.

"Sorry." I whisper, tying the final knot in the bandage around his skull. "I don't think you'll be able to go home after this."

Peter nods knowingly. "Yeah, well, my dad died a few days ago. Took a bullet to the heart, and I never really knew my mom so… I guess there's not really any where for me to go." His shoulders slump and his eyes become dark, tears threatening to fall. He had the look of utterly lost and hopeless about him.

Something inside me tightens when he says this. All he had was taken by this war, yet he still chose to fight in it. This, the boy sitting right in front of me, was just another way the world showed how unfair it truly was.

But sometimes, very few times, we have the power to balance things out. When I think of the way I can, I put my hand on his good shoulder and squeeze it reassuringly again. After I do this he looks up at me questioningly.

"You know, if your interested, I know a place where you can start a life all your own. With no Redcoats to worry about, and no war. Just a nice peaceful place with a bunch of amazing and kind people." I tell him, smiling widely as I do; the feeling of putting a little good back from where the world had taken it, filling me.

Peter looks back up at me and for the first time smiles. "I'd like that."

**-X-**

I stay with Peter for a little while, telling him all about the Homestead. I even get him to smile again and laugh, as I distracted him from what was going on outside our little social bubble.

I found out Peter was actually pretty smart for his age, and if the war hadn't occurred he would have been running his father's printing press service. He had a gift for words, he really did. He could even quote poetry like a pro.

I told Peter then that if he wanted to start up a printing press service down in Davenport, in his father's honor, that there would be plenty of people willing to help. This made tears come to his eyes, almost as if I was handing him his life back, it made him so happy.

But when I see Connor riding back up to the hill I have to say goodbye to Peter. Peter actually looked a bit distraught as I left, but I reassured him that I'd be right back. When I said that he looked a little bit better, but he still didn't look too happy about me leaving.

_Had the kid already developed a crush on me or something?_

As Connor rides up, soldiers begin to gather around. Putnam's called a last-chance speech conference to pull his men together. By now though, their ammo is beginning to run low, and Putnam's losing faith in the fight.

_Things were about to get bad._

"The enemy advances and you tremble. They've better numbers, you say. Better weapons. Better training. But I do not fear…" Putnam starts, standing up on his figural soapbox.

As he talks I make my way through the crowd, silently passing soldier after soldier like I was a ghost. Connor's on the other side doing the same, and after a moment of the both of us moving toward one another, we meet in the middle.

I can't help the urge, and I certainly don't feel the need to control it. So, as we meet, I throw myself onto Connor and hug him. The warmth that rolls off of him in thralls comforts me, and makes the fact that he's standing there feel just that much more real.

"I'm glad your okay tsi'a." I say; my words muffled as I nuzzle further into his chest.

Connor pats my back and chuckles. "So am I."

"And neither should you. For what they have in materiel, they lack in conviction and care. But not us. We have discipline. We have order. And most importantly, we have passion. We believe! So maintain vigilance. Conserve your ammo. Ensure a proper line of sight. And above all else, men: do not fire until you see the whites of their eyes." Putnam finishes his speech and the masses dissipate as he dismisses the eagerly listening soldiers.

As I had explained earlier; the Patriots were getting low on ammunition. Because of this Putnam had said _'don't fire until you see the whites of their eyes.' _It was his way of getting his men to conserve ammo. At least he thought it might work. But when your low your low, there's no changing that.

As the soldiers head back to their stations, Connor continues his trek towards Putnam, now with me on his tail. Israel, this time, is sitting down on a tipped over crate, chewing on his cigar as the two of us walk up to him.

Putnam instantly notices us, and with a shine in his eye, he looks up at Connor. "Well I'll be damned, you did it."

"That was quite a speech." Connor replies, not as surprised as Putnam by his own feats.

"Lies, all of it, I'm afraid. Still, such words have carried us thus far." Israel retorts, a shrug and dryness to his tone. Slowly, after that was said, he stands, and then dusts himself off.

"And what of Pitcairn?" Connor asks, his arms behind himself, as he follows closely after Putnam.

Putnam walks up the hill, to where we can see out to the far distances. There we see a sea of Redcoats to the north, marching against the few scattered rebel soldiers here and there below Breed's Hill. It looks bad; gruesome in fact, we were outnumbered by the hundreds.

"He's left Boston as I said he would, and sat up camp on Moulton Hill." Putnam explains, picking up an eyeglass from where it sat on a table beside him. It's essentially a telescope, and I watch closely as he extends it then looks through it to locate where Pitcairn is.

As soon as he does he hands the telescope over to Connor and points at the top of Moulton Hill, which was really almost directly across from us. Connor looks through it just as Putnam had, and spots John, with a twitch of hatred in his muscles.

"There's no good way to get at him-not with that maelstrom brewing down below. I suppose you could circle around a bit, or wait for us to thin their ranks." Putnam proposes, using his keen military eyes to see and think out a working strategy to solve Connor's over abundant Redcoat problem.

Connor shakes his head and hands the eyeglass back over to Putnam. "There is no time. I will have to chance direct approach."

Both Putnam and I whip our heads around to stare at Connor, shocked to hear he would try something so fool hardy and reckless. I was practically struck speechless. 'Cause, I mean, there had to at least be two hundred Redcoats down there, firing all at the same area. The exact area Connor would have to go through to chance that direct approach!

"That's twice today you've proposed the impossible!" Putnam scoffed, and then took another quick breath of cigar smoke, billowing it out through his nose. Rigidly, he folds the telescope back together and puts it in his pocket.

"I see no other choice." Connor points out, putting his hand on the hilt of his own sword.

"That's cos you're mad as a march hare, son." Putnam responds as he chews even more on the end of his cigar.

I couldn't help but agree with the horrible Alice in Wonderland reference, although, I didn't really have the guts to say that out loud.

Connor looks insulted as he glares at the older man. He then inches his face as close to Putnam's as he can, making his figure seem even more daunting. As he leans in, Connor narrows his eyes and says: "I expect an apology on my return."

A brow rises on my face, as I'm pretty surprised Connor would say something like that. But, after training with the man, I knew he could be pretty harsh and serious at times you wouldn't expect him to be.

The look on Putnam's face though, I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. He just looked so shocked and confused, it was such an odd countenance on his usually rough and tough expression, and it was absolutely hilarious.

**-X-**

After Connor leaves I return to Peter and find him speaking with another, older, man. He's saluting the man, so he's obviously a superior officer. And yet this man had an air of kindness about him. He was looking over Peter's wounds with such a gentle touch; I could barely believe the man even considered himself a soldier.

The man in question didn't even wear a uniform. He did, however, have long black hair and dark brown eyes. His face had a few scars here and there on it, he had several calluses on his hands, but he was still very handsome. When he smiled at Peter it was warm and reassuring.

I already liked the man.

"Oh," Peter notices me out of the corner of his eye and waves me over. "Doctor Warren! This is Kyle!" Peter introduces me to the older man and I smile politely at him.

Warren smiles kindly back, extending a hand towards me. "So you're the woman who dressed Peter's wounds." I shake his hand and nod my head. "I'm Doctor Joseph Warren, and believe it or not I'm supposed to be in charge around here." After he says this he sighs, sounding disappointed and exhausted.

When I pull my hand back I smirk sympathetically. I knew the story, and I understood how he felt. I really did.

"I see you have your hands full." I state, looking around at the wounded that kept piling up.

"Exactly." He replies quickly. "And after seeing of your work on Private Brown, I was going to ask you for a hand."

Hearing this I beam. "Of course!"

Joseph gladly grins back. "Thank you."

**-X-**

So, as the second wave of Redcoats came and retreated I helped Doctor Joseph with soldier after soldier, injury after injury. All I really did was dress wounds and clean out grazes. But help was help.

While I was not equipped with the knowledge to stitch up a wound, or diagnose a sickness, I did know how to bandage, medicate, disinfect, and pop bones back into place. Mainly because Achilles had insisted I learn such things, and I did, under Doctor White's watchful eyes.

During my stint as Warren's nurse Peter practically became my assistant. He carried around the supplies both me and Joseph needed. In fact; Doctor Warren had to sow up a good many cuts and grazes, so he would ask Peter to bring him something to put on the open wounds.

Joseph was beyond being just a good man. He was strong, leading the little bit of an army he could, he was kind, being his own men's medic, and lastly he was wise. Doctor Warren knew exactly what to say to keep men's minds at ease about their mortal lives.

I saw at least ten men die while still under the care of Doctor Warren, and each time he took the death just as badly as the last. But he pushed on, even when he shouldn't have had to.

"Peter!" Joseph shouted over the shooting and screaming, a desperate tone to his voice.

"Coming!" Peter yells back, taking the arm full of supplies he had over to the doctor.

I finish up wrapping one last wound on another man's arm and pat his back, telling him I was done. The man nods his thanks and gets up, limping off down the hill to join the other wounded men.

After I'm done watching him walk off into the distance I run over to where Joseph is. The doctor was working on a man who had lost his leg earlier, when the canon fire had still been going.

"Damn it!" He curses as he tries to stop the bleeding on the stump of the leg that's left on the soldier. "Kyle, come here." He beckons me to come sit down beside him, and I rush over to do so as quickly as possible.

"Hold that." He orders, shoving a roll of gauze into my arms. I do as he says, but even after all our hard work and patience, given little time, the man still dies from blood loss. Doctor Warren couldn't save him.

Joseph breathes through his teeth as he fists his hands. I know he's looking away on purpose; he can't stand to see the dead sixteen-year-old boy that lies in front of him. And, really, neither could I.

"I hate this damn war." He mumbles to where I know only I can hear his voice. Peter though, he's looking off into the distance, watching the remaining soldiers fire at the approaching Redcoats. "Why do so many boys have to die?" Joseph asked, now looking directly at me, tears in his eyes. "Why do they have to be so young?"

I couldn't answer him, nor could I even look him in the eyes anymore.

"I just wish the monster that did this would die." Warren whispers angrily, pure hatred and loathing in his voice. "I just wish Howe would drop dead."

Hearing this from him surprises me, but it wasn't too shocking. He was a man of unshakable conviction and beliefs. But, mostly, he just wanted to heal people and he wanted to save lives.

And really, I've never been much of a hero; frankly I've never been able to save anyone. But if there is one thing I can do, it's kill the man responsible for this slaughter.

"I'll do it." I say, my voice even more shaky than Joseph's. I trembled as I touched his hand, and everything was blurry as I looked back into his confused eyes. "I'll kill William Howe."

Doctor Warren shakes his head in reply and crushes my hand in his. "No, no you mustn't kill." His voice is stronger now, and confident like before, but anger still lingered there, like venom deeply embedded into the skin. "No one should have the right to chose who dies and who lives."

"But…" I start, slowly taking my hand away from his. "Sometimes there are certain people who have to die for the greater good." The creed I had vowed to not only follow but protect said so.

In reply he just continues to shake his head. "I'm sorry you believe that."

I gape at this. _'Sorry? He's sorry for me?'_

'_Only weaker minds think that anything can be solved by peaceful means.'_

I hear my father again as I stumble back, away from Joseph. Something, deep down inside me, twists. It twists and cracks into pieces, then reforms into something completely new and dark. I feel it creep into every crevice of my mind. And as I felt that I became determined to show Warren how wrong he was.

I steady myself, back onto my own two feet as I begin to run off, leaving a confused distressed Peter, as well as a slightly ashamed Doctor Warren, behind me.

I would prove to him that he was wrong.

You could save people by killing others.

**-X-**

Through the redoubt, down from the hill, past the forests, and around the British infantry was where Howe was. Pitcairn was on the complete other side of the infantry fire, as he had stationed himself on Moulton Hill.

Running past fire was challenging. Trying not to get hit by any of that fire was even more so. But I had gotten much faster since Concord and Lexington, and now I had weapons of my very own to use.

Circling around the infantry was easier than I thought. Since the British were so consumed with their need to destroy the American troops on the top of the hill, that they weren't even watching they're own flank.

As soon as I hit the forest I climbed onto the nearest tree and used branch after branch to soar through the distance much faster. It took me less then ten minutes to get General William Howe in my sights.

The tall and frightening looking figure was sitting atop a horse. He was behind his men, barking orders like a dog. And, right behind him, was an open branch. Swiftly, I flung myself toward that branch.

I made it in one far leap. The branch, luckily, held my weight. And after I was settled and sure the branch wouldn't collapse underneath me, I got on the balls of my feet and pulled out one of my throwing knives.

I was just close enough to make the kill.

'_Do it! Show that fool how wrong he is!'_

For once I listen to my father's voice. I flick my wrist, and as smooth as the wind itself, the knife sailed from my hand. All I had to do was blink to miss it, as the all-powerful General William Howe fell from his horse, cold stone dead, a knife buried deeply into the back of his head.

The act was too easy.

But the guilt I later felt would be crippling.

The fact I had let my father control me….

I had felt blood lust….

Two dead at my hands; _what kind of monster had I become?_ And yet, the transformation was only just beginning.

**-X-**

When I make it back to the encampment I'm prepared to tell Joseph that maybe he was right, maybe killing wasn't the answer. But as I make it back I see a group of soldiers surrounding something.

Peter finds me first, and there are tears in his eyes. He hugs me and kisses my cheek before running off down the hill, evidently done with this war. I'm frozen after he does this, and I feel of my cheek… confused.

The yelling takes me out of my stupor though, and rapidly I rush over to see what everyone is staring at. I force my way through the gathering of nearly dead soldiers, and find at my feet the body of Doctor Joseph Warren; dead, a hole going right through his head.

I stand there, paralyzed, my heart bleeding like it had when I was forced to watch Isaac die. Warren had been just another good man that was killed by the British, those who wanted to take America's freedom. He was just another amazing man that had been in their way.

I feel my fists clench, finger nails digging into my palm, blood dripping down from my hand, as I forced myself not to cry.

I was done with crying! Crying never did shit to save anyone! Just like me, if I had been here I could have saved him. If I had even slightly been a hero I could have saved him!

'_If he wasn't such a fool he wouldn't have died…'_

Because, I was right, there are those who do have to die…. for the greater good, for men like Joseph Warren.

I was an Assassin, I was right; I do have to kill to save lives. I get that now. And, from this day forward, I was never going to let men like Joseph and Isaac die ever again. I'd take a million lives before I'd let that happen… because I had made my choice.

_I was an Assassin._

"He was a good man."

The sound of another person's voice snapped me out of my revere. Quickly, I put my hands in the pockets of the pants Ellen had made for me, and pretended I hadn't just made a life changing decision.

"Yes," My voice drops and I have to clear my throat to keep my tone from sounding like a low growl. "Yes, he was." I agreed, nodding my head sluggishly.

The tall man with blue eyes, an average face, and messy brown hair nodded too. He wore a heavily medaled blue uniform, and bowed his head as he said, what seemed like a prayer, over Warren's body.

"Colonel Prescott!" The older man's head whipped up as he heard his name. He looked over to another soldier and nodded again.

"Good bye, miss." He says, his voice profound and commanding, as he pats me on the shoulder and walks over to the person who had been calling to him.

I take in one, very deep, shaky breath, before I pull my bloodied hands out of my pockets. After a few more moments of looking at Joseph's body, I kneel down and close his eyes, my blood getting all over his face.

"Rest in peace, and know, that you helped me make my final decision."

**-X-**

I wrap my hand in bandages, and then put back on my gloves, as I try and silence my dark foreboding thoughts. Things are only getting worse, as the British are making their final push forward. It had only been moments ago that Ward had announced a retreat.

I feel… different. No longer lost, but in an even darker place than I had been in before. I wasn't confused I just felt… I just felt like there was something I should be noticing. Like, there was something lingering in the air that I should know about.

"How dare you sneak up on me like that! Why don't you just go off there and just help this camp retreat! Don't ever do that again you hear me! God Damn'it."

When I hear Putnam the thought I had been having floats to the back of my mind. I turn around and see the General holding some papers in his hand, his gaze hard and heavy as he read them.

Connor's not far off and I wonder then if he knew…. If he knew that I had killed General Howe and that I felt… worse because of that. Instantly, I decide that if Connor didn't know about Howe then I wouldn't tell him. I'd rather he think I was still clean instead of otherwise.

Silently, I fall in line behind Connor. I see his eyes watching me, but I don't say anything. After realizing I was behind him Connor runs up to Putnam, an envelope secured tightly in his hands.

"General Putnam." Connor calls, and almost immediately Putnam turns to him.

"You live." He answers with surprise, his attention squarely on the Master Assassin's shoulders now.

Connor nods easily, stepping up to stand right beside the General. "The same cannot be said for Pitcairn."

Putnam sighs when he hears this. "Well done, I suppose. But it matters little now. I'm ordering a full retreat. We have lost too many in exchange for too little. If the Tories want this hill so badly, let them have it. Boston is the true prize."

This time I nod in agreement with Putnam as I stand at the sidelines in the conversation. I can't help but think of all the soldiers I had helped to patch up, and of the doctor who still had so much to do and so little help.

There is a pregnant pause between the two as they walk to the sides of the fort. Then they come to stand at the top most part of the hill, looking down over the nearly demolished Boston Harbor.

"We have a bigger problem." Connor states reluctantly, trepidation buried deep inside his voice. Putnam looks at him sideways, not sure what he means, that is, until Connor hands him the letter.

"What do you mean?" He asks, even as he begins to open the envelope. Silence falls as he reads the letter, and even Connor is fidgety as he waits for Putnam to get to that last line. Suddenly, Putnam's eyes widen and his mouth gapes, that ever present cigar falling to the ground. "This can't be right. It says they plan to murder Washington!"

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead; July 20__th__, 1775._

"I can still see you."

"You're cheating!"

Connor smirks slyly as he leans against the tree, his hood down, and the sun-casting rays of light at his back. I glare at him from where I sit in the grass; even from here I can tell he had been using Eagle Vision.

"Fine! I'll go try again!" I pout as I stand, brushing my knees off. Then, when I'm satisfied with my freshly cleaned, no longer stained green trousers, I turn on my heel and begin to run off.

"Try harder this time!" Connor cheerfully yells after me, as I head out further into the forest. When he does I go to run backwards and stick my tongue out at him.

It's been several weeks now since Bunker Hill, and yet the blackness from the event still lingered in the air. That day, during the battle, something had shifted. Not just in our war against the Templars, but also inside of me. I was afraid to think about it; even now I could still feel my father's gaze over my shoulder. And with every attack or kill I'd make I'd ear his voice slithering around inside my skull.

As the day went by, dark clouds began to loom overhead, almost like foreshadowing. They were here and there, casting shadows from above. And ever since we got back I've been training just that much harder, trying to become the Master Assassin I need to be to take my revenge.

It wasn't just about revenge though. Not anymore.

Today, and for the last few days, we've been playing hide and seek. I know, I know, it's kind of childish. But apparently hide and seek was an excellent stealth training exercise. Who would have thought?

Quickly, I find another spot where the grass is high, in a matter of seconds too, another new record. There's a rabbit sitting, or really eating, inside said grass. So, I have to shoo it away before I can sit down and hide.

When the rabbit's gone I go to lie on my stomach and I crawl into the grass. As soon as I'm settled and where I think Connor won't find me, I relax. And just as soon as I do that it begins to drizzle.

"Oh, come on!" I whine, as I sit up, and look at the over casting clouds. The second I say that the drizzle turns into a downpour and I get instantly drenched. "It's official, the world hates me." I moan.

**-X-**

_Back at the manor…._

"Achoo!" I sneeze and wipe the snot from my nose using the towel around my shoulders. "This is all you fault!" I whined, nudging Connor in the side with my elbow.

In reply he just grins and shrugs. "I did not know it would rain today." He says innocently.

"Yeah but…." I cut myself off as I begin to rub my chin. Suddenly my thoughts become slow and I can't remember what I was going to say anymore. "Achoo!"

Connor sighs.

**-X-**

_Davenport Homestead Manor; July 21__st__, 1775._

I was sick.

Due to being drenched, wet and cold for so long, I had gotten a fever. With that came the normal symptoms of having a Cold. My thoughts became sluggish, my movements slow, I had aches, I couldn't stay warm, and Doctor White stated I needed constant attention. He thought for sure if no one was watching me the sickness would develop into the flu.

This, on my part, was a major pain.

Connor insisted that I stay in bed, that I eat all my soup, and drink all the water that was brought to me while getting plenty of rest. And all I could think was; _'What am I, five?' _

And when I was tired of Connor watching over my every movement like the eagle he was I told him to go take a hike. And, of course, the Native American had to take me seriously. So, now the Master Assassin was on a hike in the wilderness, leaving grumpy old Achilles to watch me.

Not that I minded so much. At least Achilles was reading a book; Connor would just stare at me for hours on end like something could happen at any second. I mean, don't get me wrong, I appreciate his diligence and all, but _yesh_ that was just creepy.

My consciousness wavered in and out as I felt the heat on my forehead. It wasn't so bad that I might pass out, but it did feel pretty pressuring. In my state of mind though, on a fever high practically, I was imagining things teenage girls tend to imagine.

AKA: Getting it on with a hot guy. And, while some time ago Connor might have made a special appearance in this fantasy, he wouldn't now. Thinking of Connor like that had been absent from my mind for quite some time. I really only thought of him like an older brother these days. So, instead, I made due with the lingering thought of Ezio's lips.

But just as things were getting good….

_-THUNK.-_

"Uh, wa!" I sprang up, startled and completely awake now, due to the loud noise of a book closing. Blinking continuously, I looked over to where Achilles sat on the couch, supposedly watching over me.

In his hands was a thick leather bond novel, now closed with dust still bellowing up from it. Strongly, Achilles' gaze connected with mine, and there was a glint there, of frustration I imagined.

He coughed into his hand and replied quickly to my confusion. "You were moaning." The statement was direct, with no emotion attached to it. Almost as if he wasn't embarrassed by it, he was merely annoyed by what he believed was the inevitable.

He may not have been embarrassed, but I was. I could feel red tinting my already sweaty and flushed cheeks. "Sorry." I said miserably, sitting up as I saw a glass of water on my nightstand. Reluctantly, I reached for it and took a sip, then weakly put it back.

After I apologized, Achilles went back to his reading, as if he didn't even mind, not too much anyway. If it disturbed his reading then he very much minded, _well_ apparently.

It took me a second to recall what I had been feverishly day dreaming about. A second later I remembered, and felt even worse about the whole incident. I knew I was hormonal, but that was just low.

But with the memory of Ezio's warm lips back in my mind I remembered how I even knew how Ezio's lips felt. Salvatore. I had almost forgotten about my; as-close-to-an-animus-session-I-hopefully -ever-get. And then I wondered about her, I became curious about my ancestor.

And, what do you know; the oldest and wisest among us was sitting not but a few feet away. Perhaps he would know something of Salvatore?

"Achilles?" I called, my voice hallow, dry sounding. I coughed evenly and Achilles pulled his nose out of the book in reply. "Do you know anything about an Assassin named Salvatore?" I asked carefully, feeling as if I was walking on my tip toes. I had to make sure I didn't incriminate myself.

There was a pause, one in which you could hear Achilles thinking. I couldn't really see him very well from where I sat, covered in quilts and sheets, but I knew what the sound of gears turning sounded like. Even if it didn't come from Achilles as loudly as it came from Connor.

"I might have. But it depends." He states suspiciously, just as I'd feared, he was on to me.

Achilles may be grumpy and commanding, but you had to give the old man credit, he could pick up on things from a mile off. He knew what smelled fishy, and he knew how to weed things out of people. As kind as he could be at times, he was far more callous at others.

"Depends on what?"

"Why you're asking about her."

I sighed heavily then coughed again. Swiftly, or as swiftly as I could, I sat up and took another sip of water. My throat just wouldn't stay wet, my mouth kept drying out and it was driving me crazy.

While I took a drink I began to formulate an excuse as to why I would ask about my ancestor. Achilles didn't know she was my ancestor though, or about any of my lineage, and to tell the truth I'd rather like it to stay that way.

I was the queen of reasonable excuses though; I had been most of all my life. Growing up with the parents I had, well, let's just say practice makes perfect. That's why I wasn't there the day my father was killed, because of excuses.

But then, a swirling churning feeling of sickness appeared in my stomach. It was the strong feeling of guilt. Sure I'd lied to my father and mother countless times, but here beside me was a man far better to me than both my parents. Even now he set by my bedside, watching over me because both him and Connor cared about me. They were the family I had always wanted.

And I couldn't lie to him, not again.

But I couldn't tell him the whole truth either, I was still trying to protect both of them from that.

So, I left out some key details.

"I had a dream about her." I finally answered, believing this would be good enough reasoning for Achilles, as well as it being the truth.

Achilles _'hmm-ed'_ deeply, and as I looked over at him from where I lay, he looked thoughtful but not at all disappointed or confused. If anything he almost looked as if he expected that answer. Maybe Achilles did know more about me than he let on. That thought alone was enough to send me hiding under the covers.

"What would you like to know?" He enquired, his hands folded under his chin, reminding me of a book full of secrets, just waiting to be read. It surprised me he would just openly share with me like this, but then I realized, I had a right to know. He probably thought so too, this history, these facts, it was all a part of me now; I was, after all, an Assassin.

I didn't have to think long about the answer to that question. Any information about Salvatore would interest me. But her life in general was what I mainly wondered about; her love life however, plagued me almost constantly.

"Did she…," God, I had no idea how to phrase this question. But I guessed I'd just come out with it. "Did she have a relationship with Master Ezio?"

In reply to that particular question, Achilles' brow rose. But he did not scoff at it like I expected him to. He merely just gave me a quizzical look and shrugged. An answer was promised so an answer was given.

"Yes, she had….quite the affair with the Grand Master." He answered evenly, a light and accusing tone to his deep and gravelly voice.

"Affair?" I asked a bit surprised, I thought for sure her and Ezio were just a thing, a fling I guess. Them having an affair did not come to mind though.

"Yes, quite." Achilles reassured me, his book on the table in front of him, forgotten. "Salvatore was a married woman, already with child, when she was saved by the Grand Master. And like most, after seeing such kindness and strength in the dismal darkness that had been Rome at the time, she pledged herself to the Brotherhood."

I gaped at Achilles' words. Not only had Salvatore been married but she was also pregnant at the time. So, as shocking as that was, it lead me to belief that I wasn't, in fact, distantly related to Ezio. If so then, how was I related to the Kenway's?

**-X-**

**End Note: **_Crap guys, I'm SO sorry for the wait. I was sure that being graduated meant having a care free Summer where I could write to my heart's content and give you guys the best chapters I could. Boy was I wrong. My life only got harder after graduation and a lot of stuff happened then I got fixated on something else. But I'm back and I promise I won't leave you again for as long as I can._

_Sorry again! But thank you so much for reading!_

R&R please!


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